


Collide

by hiboudeluxe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Homestuck
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-14 04:24:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 39,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14762546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiboudeluxe/pseuds/hiboudeluxe
Summary: In third year when using her time turner, Hermione Granger has a rather unusual encounter with someone from another universe. The crossover no one, myself included, ever asked for or wanted. No obvious pairings. Rated for language and violence.





	1. Act 1: Prologue

The first time she'd seen him had been on the second week she'd used her time turner and the third time she'd used it that particular afternoon. It was a Thursday, she remembered that clearly. There had been nothing especially strange about that day, really. It was just a seemingly normal day in mid-September in Scotland, which meant it was cold and a little damp. The sky had turned a light iron grey with the sun occasionally peeking through the clouds.

She was between classes, looking for a secluded spot to use her time turner so that she might attend her Arithmancy class. This particular corridor had been suggested by Professor McGonagall as an ideal place for using the device for one of her time hops as it was disused by staff and few students knew about it. It was also dusty and exposed on one side, affording a spectacular view of the Scottish highlands. Everything in the wizarding world seemed to have an unerring sense of capriciousness that was at times awe inspiring but also dreadfully impractical to Hermione's thinking at times. And an exposed corridor with lovely decorative arches on the side of the building for no real reason reeked of impractical whimsy. It also seemed like a silly spot to time travel in, but she assumed Professor McGonagall knew what she was talking about.

A gust of wind buffeted her and she pulled her robes closer to her, hiding her face into her scarf until it passed. In the two weeks she'd used this passage, she had never seen a single other soul. So she was a bit surprised to actually see someone walking down the corridor that day. But it was a rather big school, with loads of students and McGonagall had said that only a few knew this place, not that no one knew it, so she covered her surprise. After all, there was the evidence bobbing down the hall towards her.

The first thing she'd noticed was the shock of white blond hair, which had panicked her briefly as she thought it was Malfoy. Really, the last person she wanted to deal with in a dusty, disused hallway. But as the figure got closer, she could see it was not him. First of all, he was far too tall. It had to be a sixth or a seventh year, at the very least, by her estimates.

Coming closer, the differences were very sharp and obvious. That shock of blond hair was far too shaggy, almost artfully messy. And it was all flipped up like a bird wing in the back, not smooth and slicked back as Malfoy seemed to prefer it. The most startling thing, though, was that he was out of uniform on a school day. He was wearing ill-fitting black jeans that hug low on his hips, a baggy bright red hoodie that was not zipped up, and a t-shirt with what looked like a faded broken record printed on the front. Dark mirrored aviators covered his eyes and he walked towards her at what could be generously described as a lackadaisical gait. Hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, he had the air of a person who had all the time in the world and nothing at all to do.

As they came closer, he gazed at her, a very small, almost imperceptible smile on his face. The blond boy nodded at her as he passed, giving her what, at the time, she thought was a very rude gesture, but upon reflection later that night she realized it was a rather lazy peace sign because... He had said only one thing to her, in a very clear American accent.

"Sup."

It took her several seconds to really even think about what happened because she'd been so gob-smacked by the accent and the gesture. Turning around to question him incredulously, she made to shout at his back but he was gone. She did a double take. He hadn't been walking that fast, she had been sure. It had seemed almost as if he hadn't been there at all.

Later in the day while reflecting on it in the common room it almost seemed like she'd dreamed it. 'Ridiculous', she told herself, shaking her head. Neglecting to mention it to Harry or Ron partly out of fear they'd make fun of her and partly because nothing really had happened anyway, it was silly of her to worry about it and even sillier of her to make her friends worry. Plus, how would she even explain what she was doing down that corridor without also mentioning the time turner, which no one was even supposed to know she had. So, turning back to her Ancient Runes homework, she pushed the strange encounter into the back of her mind, despite the lingering questions... what was an American doing in Hogwarts walking down a little used corridor as if he belonged there?

The very next day, she'd gone to Professor McGonagall to ask if Hogwarts had ever had exchange students, like they did in some muggle schools. The Deputy Headmistress had primly told her that Hogwarts had never hosted such a program. When McGonagall had asked her why she'd made such an inquiry, Hermione had lied and told her that she was only curious. She didn't know why she'd lied, considering everything going on it seemed foolish. It was just stress, that's what she'd told herself. She'd just imagined it, because she really hadn't been sleeping well, what with all the work. Even though it was only two weeks in, Hermione had read about sleep deprivation and what it could do. She'd just have to sleep in a bit over the weekend, it'd fix itself.

She didn't see the boy again, and had completely forgotten September's incident. Chalking it up to exactly what she thought it had been: a bit of stress and a desperate need to sleep more. And she believed this until just after Christmas.


	2. Act 1: Red Disc

The second time she saw the strange American boy was on the evening of December 28th. Christmas had been three days before, and her friends had stopped talking to her because she'd let Professor McGonagall know about the Firebolt Harry had received for Christmas. Both Ron and Harry were furious with her and refused to even look at her, much less speak with her. Naturally, she was very upset as she'd only done what she thought was right. No one even knew where the thing had come from and she'd only been thinking of Harry's safety because she cared about him. Neither boy seemed to see it that way. It wasn't like she couldn't see their perspective though - even though they hadn't even bothered to consider hers, as per usual. There was a small part of her that expected it; she really was the odd one out. Harry and Ron had been friends first, after all. They'd only even accepted her as a friend under duress because of a troll.

Irritated and out of sorts, she went to the one place that would never disappoint her: the library. Madame Pince was much more forgiving when it was just her, though not by much. She tended to be a bit shirty when Harry and Ron were around because they were disruptive at times. It wasn't their fault, really. Ron especially had trouble keeping his voice down and Harry always tended to follow Ron's lead with these things. One would get going and then the other one would reciprocate and... Hermione sighed sadly at the thought, wiping at her eyes because, damn it all, she wasn't going to cry over this anymore. She'd had a good long one in a bathroom on the way here, enough was enough.

The library was absolutely deserted, for which Hermione was grateful for. It was just her and Madame Pince, who was irritably stamping books in at the circulation desk. She gave Hermione a beady, distrustful glare before going back to stamping, rather harder than she needed to. Most students gave the library wide berth during the holidays, except for Hermione, who would have been here anyway. It just so happened that being here and avoiding her friends made a rather nice Venn diagram under the circumstances.

Taking her mind off her woes was a bit hard. Being upset had the annoying effect on her concentration in that it tended to wander and made reading her Arithmancy notes that much harder. Also it didn't help that she was reading through her tears, because she hadn't stopped crying. She dearly wished there was some sort of spell to stop it. After an hour and a half where she pretended like she was going to get something done, instead of just crying, she surrendered to it. Burying her head she sobbed into her arms, her entire body shaking silently.

She was so absorbed in her own grief, she didn't notice when someone sat down across from her. Nor did she notice that he'd pushed his chair back noisily or that he'd loudly plonked his feet on the table, ankles crossed neatly. She didn't even twitch when he started to beat box, though to be fair to her, he was trying to keep it library quiet beat boxing. It was only when he started actually rapping that she realized she was not alone.

"Noooow don't you tell me to smile," he began, hands behind his head all casual as if rapping in a library was The Thing To Do. "You stick around I'll make it worth your while. My number's beyond what you can dial. Maybe, it's because we're so versatile."

Hermione raised her head, positively alarmed by the blond boy sitting as if he wasn't wildly out of place in this library. She looked a mess - tear streaked and snotty with her bushy hair sticking out five different ways from Sunday.

This did not detour the casual rapper, who continued, "Style, profiled, I said. It always brings me back to when I hear 'oooh child.' From the Hudson River out to the Nile I run the marathon to the very last mile..."

She blinked, once, twice, three times. Shaking her head, she wiped her eyes because it had to be a hallucination. It was getting late, she was stressed and upset. It had to be a hallucination. The hallucination, however, hadn't stopped rapping, as the Beastie Boys were one of his favorites and damned if he wasn't gonna at least finish the entire first verse. Seeing as she was just sitting there with her mouth open, gathering flies, he felt continuing really was the best course of action. By the time he got to, "... Go ahead put my rhymes on trial. Cast you off into exile", she had recovered, which was pretty great timing, he thought.

"You!" she breathed shrilly, slapping her hands on the table.

"Sure am," he said, with a sarcastic little salute. "And you're you. Now that we got that out the way, Dave Strider, your friendly, neighborhood Knght of Time." And then he held out his fist. "C'mon man, fist bunp. Don't leave me hanging."

She was somewhere between towering fury and absolute confusion, watching as he guided her own hand fist bump his. "WHO- WHO ARE YOU AND HOW DID YOU GET HERE?" she bellowed as she slapped his hands away, in her temporary insanity forgetting about Madame Pince and her firm insistence on absolute quiet in the library.

He held up his pointer finger, twirling it in the air theatrically, "Question numero uno. Dave Strider, def just mentioned that," holding up his index with a similar flourish, "Quuuuuestion deux, Time Travel... Also mentioned that before but more obliquely, re: being the Knight of Time- which, to break that down, means being a mother fucking time traveler. AKA, being an interdimensional badass. Nice to meet you too, B-Tee-Dubs."

An ominous rustling came from somewhere in the vicinity of the circulation desk. Remembering herself, she hissed, "I know you're not a student -how did you get in here? There's no way you apparated and most of the secret entrances are either guarded or closed."

"We covered this. I warped the fabric of space time and abraca-fucking-happened right the fuck where I felt like being. That's how," he drawled, dark eyebrows popping up over his glasses.

"How did you get past the Dementors?"

He actually laughed. "What, those fucking shitty floating zombies? Like I'm gonna be stopped by bunch gently drifting garbage bags that fucking wishes they was relevant enough to present me with even a modest challenge. Please."

Hermione bit her lower lip, thoroughly unsettled that she could not tell if he was being truthful or just full of stereotypical American Bravado. "Are you saying you're not affected by them?"

"Am I supposed to be? That's a real question. Cuz I'm not. Just kinda feel like the whole thing is super passé. Like the scary shit in your world ain't even trying that hard."

She was desperately trying to convince herself that it was just bravado. Because even if the things weren't allowed that close there was a terrible pall of melancholy hanging over the entire school even before the Firebolt incident, she'd noticed it since November. But this American seemed positively ebullient.

"You're American," she blurted out, feeling very foolish for saying the only thing she could come up with in the moment.

"As apple pie. Next question," he quipped, snapping his fingers and making little finger guns at her.

"Why are you here?"

"Finally!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together softly. "So, like, you want the literal answer or a more existential dialog? I can do both. Don't know if you can though. You get like... what? Five hours out that thing?" He pointed a finger at her necklace. "I got lots more time. To liberally paraphrase somethin' a legitimately terrible person said once, I have all the time. All of it."

She clutched the time turner, which had fallen out from under her jumper when she'd had her little episode. "How do you know about that? No one's supposed to know!"

He stopped and stared at her for ten whole seconds, his hands pressed together as if in prayer. Pursing his lips, he drew his hands up to cover his mouth. With a sigh, he pointed his clasped hands at her and said, "My dude, we literally covered this already. I. Am. A. Time. Traveler. What about that is a mystery?"

Opening her mouth and closing it several times as she tried to form an argument, she finally conceded. "Noted. But haven't told me why you're here?"

"And you didn't tell me if you wanted a straight answer or more of an existential 'Carl Sagan Pale Blue Dot why are we all here' type thing?" She gave him a withering look. "I ain't got nothing but time and nowhere else to be. Saw you on this timeline, all by your lonesome with the crying and shit. You looked all hella sad and this is, as you know, a sads free zone, so I thought I'd do ya a solid and chase them sads away by hopping on in to say howdy to my fellow time buddy."

"I'm not your time buddy," Hermione asserted acidly, her eyes narrowing.

"Yeah, I know! That's cus you haven't even made a proper introduction like a fucking civilized human being. Like, I'll show you how that shit works." He pointed to himself. "Dave Strider." Then he gestured to her. Leaning forward with his arms crossed, he stared at her until she answered.

"Hermione Granger." He held out a hand expectantly. Rolling her eyes, she took it, muttering, "nice to meet you."

"Likewise. Soooo... Sup?"

"Sup?" she scoffed haughtily, "What does that even mean?"

"Sup as in what is up, as in let's ask 'how are you' but in a way that doesn't confirm a stick is so firmly stuck up your ass that you could pass for a fucking Muppet," he shot back, a liberal dose of humor in his voice. "So are we done with the hostilities here and can we maybe talk about shit that isn't boring as fuck?"

Hermione closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "So, what you're trying to tell me is... you're a time traveler who got bored and came here to talk? To me?"

"Preeeeetty much." He made a little popping noise with his lips and nodded, pulling one of her books over to him to look at it, sunglasses still on.

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that?"

"Sure do. Cus it's 100% Pure-D-truth. The truthiest truth that ever did truth," he insisted, slowly flipping through the book, pausing to look at a particularly complicated illustration. "Ain't you wizards got some sort of horse shitty truth serum? Probably got some dumb ass name that combines Latin and English badly and it makes some sort of shitty whimsical pun. Y'all be like, hey, get me that Et-tu-Brute-Juice, Rupert. Gotta make some dipshit spill his guts so he gives up them dope ass secrets."

"It's called Veritaserum," snapped Hermione defensively. "And I don't have any."

"HA! Called it. Anyway, why don't you go get some or whatever. I'll drink that milk shake right the fuck up and lay down some nasty truth that I've been saying since the very beginning. Because it's, you know, the truth." She stuck her lip out stubbornly and he rolled his eyes behind his aviators. "I ain't got no ulterior motives here, sis. Like, _you_ tell _me_ what kind of jackass would pull a stunt like this while being as absurdly upfront as I'm being right now."

"Well, you might not be aware, but there is a former Death Eater on the loose right now. Who happens to want to murder my best friend! So pardon me for being suspicious of some mad American wizard who broke into Hogwarts for a laugh, apparently."

"WHOA-MAHGAWD!" he exclaimed, holding up a hand as if to ward something away. "Dude... Firstly, gonna go on record as not giving a shit about any of the words you just said. Secondly, I ain't a fucking wizard, so jot that down."

"Not a wizard, that's impossible! There's no way you would be able to even find Hogwarts if you weren't."

"Yeah, I'm sure it's a job of work for people who aren't me," he snorted, still idly flipping pages. "Look behind you."

Biting her lower lip, she scowled and slowly turned her head. Standing at the bookcase just behind her was Dave Strider. The Strider at the bookcase gave a salute and said, "yo." Her head snapped back and found the Dave Strider she'd been talking to this entire time was still there. He was staring at her blankly, hand hovering over a page he hadn't yet turned. Turning again, the Strider at the bookcase was also still there but only for a moment. He smirked and gave her a little thumbs up. She could hear something that sounded like a ticking of a clock as he slowly disappeared, whirling gears overlaying his afterimage. And with a final chime from that invisible clock the other Dave was gone.

"How... how did you do," Hermione spluttered pointlessly. "You shouldn't be able to do that. Hogwarts has all sorts of enchantments and wards. You can't... How did-"

"Cus I'm the Knight of Time! Something I might have mentioned a ridiculous number of times within the last few minutes," he said in a rather sing song manner, chortling at his own little joke.

"What does that even mean?!" She threw up her hands, pulling at her hair in aggravation. "And don't you dare say time travel! What does that actually mean?! I'd like an explanation, if you please."

For the first time, he seemed uncomfortable. Hermione couldn't find it within herself to care. "Eh, it's a long story that neither of us got time for, and that's saying something." She glared at him murderously. "Aaaanyway, the title itself means that, like, I exploit time as a weapon. I got that by ascending to the God Tiers - which is a condition where you're granted godlike power related to your particular Aspect. Mine is Time. So there we go."

Hermione Granger had officially had it. "Okay, fine. Bloody brilliant! You're a god-"

"Hate to interject, but demigod would be a bit more accurate," he corrected, going back to perusing her book. "Right now though, I'm more like the Dave of Guy, who thinks this whole conversation is stupid and booooring. I came here to have hang outs with my good time buddy."

"And do demigods always wear sunglasses at nine o'clock at night?" Hermione didn't know why this bothered her, but it did. The entire exchange had been exasperating thus far, and the fact that he'd just begun perusing her Arithmancy book without even asking if he could while still wearing those stupid aviators was driving her spare.

"Yup. Standard uniform for all rad dudes."

"And you just came here to talk... to me... because I'm your time buddy," she stated, somewhat derisively, making little air quotes as she said 'time buddy'.

"HELLS yeah! 'Bout fucking time you got on this tiger boat!" He shouted, triumphantly slamming the book closed. Standing up, he cracked his knuckles and said in a more conversational tone," but we gots to get outta here ASAP, wasn't kidding about us not having that much time... that lady who looks like she's never found a lemon she didn't wanna suck is gonna kick us out in about 4.13 seconds."

At this point, Hermione didn't really care much if this was a stress induced illusion or an actual thing that was happening. She really did need to talk to somebody, even if it was some blond goofball claiming to be a time traveling demigod who wore sunglasses at night. "Fine, where shall we go?" she sighed, packing up her belongings until they were all safely in her bag.

He tilted his head, listening to the distant shuffling steps of one lemon sucking librarian. "The roof. Riiiight now."

"We can't-" but her objection wasn't noted because before she could blink he'd grabbed her wrist and then they were on a small parapet on one of the many towers in the castle. "How did we get-"

"Time traveled a few seconds into the future. I can't teleport... two of my best friends can, but they ain't here right now. So gotta make due."

Hermione shivered violently, trying and failing spectacularly to recover from the shock of such an abrupt mode of travel. "It's freezing up here. I can't believe I let you talk me into this. Don't even have my cloak," she muttered pitifully, slipping her hands and arms deep inside her jumper.

He mumbled something and a cape was forcibly hurtled from out of nowhere, hitting Dave in the face hard enough for him to stumble back. "Fucking Sylladex," he grumbled as he pulled it off his face and handed it to her without looking at her directly. His glasses had gone askew and he needed to fix them.

For the first time in hours, she laughed lightly. It really was quite funny. "What's a Sylladex?"

"Complete bullshit way of organizing your shit is what," he grunted, clearly a bit embarrassed by what happened but also glad he got a laugh out of her. "So, feelings jam. Let's do this."

Wrapping the cape around her, she inhaled deeply, not even sure where to start or if she wanted to talk about it at all. Instead she commented, "This cape is really warm."

"Damn straight it is," he declared, quickly cleaning the ledge so he could turn around and casually lean back on the parapet. "Warm as the fucking Texas sun."

She noticed then that he didn't have a coat or a cloak on either. He was still in that bright red hoodie and a thin t-shirt with the same design he'd worn before. Hermione scrutinized him before observing, "Aren't you cold?"

"Nah, I got lava in my veins, sis." Her eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline. He snorted with a faint hint of a smile. "Just kidding, I'm freezing my fucking nuts off here. Who knew that Scotland in the middle of winter would be a really shit place to be, not fucking me, that's for damn sure," he said with a one shouldered shrug. "Probably shoulda planned better before hoppin' on over here."

A time traveler who didn't bother to plan ahead; the absurdity of it all struck her all at one and she began to laugh, almost hysterically. Once she started, she simply couldn't stop. Her stomach hurt and tears were streaming down her cheeks as she laughed and laughed. The sound of his laughter mixing with hers was unexpected. It seemed he found the situation equally hilarious. He turned his face to adjust his glasses so he could wipe the tears from his eyes. It wasn't lost on her that he'd purposefully turned his head so that she couldn't see them. This thought sobered her a little. As if by design, their laughter tapered off.

"Why do you wear those glasses, really?"

"Can't get nothin' past you," he said, easily slipping his aviators off and perching them on top of his head. Long gone were the days when he was ashamed of his eye color. Being cagey about it at this point was worse than predictable and predictable was tedious. She gasped, hand clutching her throat. His eyes were a bright, penetrating blood red. "Nice reaction. I'm sure in this world there's some kind of ominous shit that goes along with having eyes this color. But I assure you, this is straight up genetic fuckery that runs in the family." He mumbled something again and a photo popped out of nowhere. Grabbing artfully between two fingers as it floated in mid-air, he handed it to her.

Taking it tentatively, Hermione gazed down at the Polaroid. It was a picture of four teenagers, Dave and three others to whom he was obviously related. They all had the same deep tan skin and white blond hair. There was Dave, glasses clipped to the front of his t-shirt with his arm around a small girl who could almost be his twin, except her eyes were a vibrant purple where his were red. Her hair was neatly bobbed, full lips tipped into an impish smile made all the more prominent by the dark lipstick she wore. To say she was gorgeous was a dreadful understatement.

Just behind her was another girl, who wasn't as put together as her sister but still very beautiful. She had wide eyes with bright pink pupils and her grin was more silly than alluring. Her coiffure was a riotous jumble of candy floss as if the exuberance she exhibited in the photo extended all the way to tips of her hair. The pink eyed girl's arms were wrapped around the other boy in the photo's neck as if her chokehold was the only thing keeping him there (in truth, it was). He had a look of blank annoyance on his face, as if he alone was the mature one in this family or perhaps the least ridiculous. Had Hermione been a connoisseur of Anime, she might have been able to better describe his hair in more specific terms. As it was, it seemed to defy gravity, sweeping back in sharp, neat spikes. A pair of triangular sunglasses were buried haphazardly in it as if someone had stuffed them in there in a hurry. His eyes were bright orange and vaguely reminded her of Hagrid's overlarge pumpkins he grew for Halloween.

Without prompting, Dave explained who they were. The purpled eyed girl was Rose, and she was, as it turned out, his twin sister. Roxy was what he described as his older sister/mom friend. It must have been some sort of American slang, as Hermione had never heard of the term. She got the concept but it was an odd turn of phrase none-the-less. The older boy with the triangular glasses was his brother, Dirk. Hermione thought about asking if they were all demigods as well, but somehow resisted the urge. Instead, she asked about where his parents were, curious if they had the same odd colored eyes. Dave got quiet then and said that it was "hells of complicated" and best not to get into it. She assumed that this was code for them being dead and was sorry she'd asked at all.

He began telling little stories about his family and some of his friends, which she could tell were somewhat edited. According to him, Rose was a lot like her; studious, sometimes serious, and too smart for her own good. Roxy was just as smart but more fun loving, and he claimed that she'd shit bricks if she knew he was here. He laughed as he explained, "She fucking loves wizards. Cus wizards ain't even a thing that's real in our world, I guess. Total fake fucking bullshit, and not cus it was hidden from prying normal people eyes or whatever."

"Your world?" Hermione asked cautiously. Whether or not this was a hallucination, the night had suddenly become far less dreary and more interesting. "You're not just a time traveler then?"

"Nah. Come from an alt-universe Earth where this whole world is a total fraudulent fantasy book for small children that my sisters are obsessed with. Well, Roxy more than Rose - I think Rose only ever liked 'em ironically but you never can tell with her."

Hermione was not entirely sure if he was being serious or if he was having a laugh at her expense, so she said nothing. He continued on talking about his brother, who was occasionally ridiculous, sometimes serious, and un-ironically loved and built his own robots. His anecdotes about all of them had to be greatly exaggerated, because the 'shenanigans' they got into were too extraordinary to believe. She informed him of that fact without even thinking.

"You live in a fucking wizard school and you just said that to me," he pointed out, holding out a hand emphatically. "Fucking incredible."

"Fair point, but you honestly expect me to believe you and your sister flew into a moon, blew up some enormous bomb inside it which created a Green Sun that you ascended out of, hence becoming a god."

"Demigod," he corrected. "And yeah, that's what happened, hand to myself and all that shit. And let's be clear... Y'all are turning horses into tea cups 24/7and you're over here giving me the business over the mundane facts of my own life." She looked scandalized and opened her mouth to object, but he cut her off quickly. "Your best friend fucking survived an un-blockable killing curse when he was a baby; I know that shit for a fact. If that fuckery is true, then me emerging from a Green Sun like a mother fucking phoenix ain't too much to believe."

"I really want to disagree but that's actually impeccable logic," grumbled Hermione, honestly feeling a bit sick saying the words. She'd known this American less than a day and she just knew that Dave Strider and impeccable logic didn't often go together.

"Score," he deadpanned. "Anyway, we've been talking about my shit for a while and as amazing a concept as this is, I'm tired of talking. So, how 'bout we discuss them mad sads you been having. Get that shit all sorted out."

She hadn't realized how good it had felt not to worry about her problems. The last few minutes had been aggravating but also weirdly enjoyable. The thought of delving into her troubles felt as if she were dunking herself into the Black Lake without a stitch on. But she really did need to talk to someone and Dave didn't really know anyone else involved. He was neutral and whatever perspective he'd have would be purely his own. She wasn't daft enough to think he'd offer a good solution but he was nice to talk to, despite his flippant, annoying American bravado.

Beginning slowly, she told him everything that had happened, not just with the Firebolt but also with the murderer stalking Harry and basically everything; every single little thing that had bothered her about her last two and half years at Hogwarts. The fear for her friends that she felt she couldn't express. Her insecurities about her place not only in the wizarding world, but within her little friend group and how easy it had seemed to her that they cut her out. She'd never had friends like this before and to lose them over something so stupid... it hurt more than words could even say.

"I k-know they just t-think I'm an annoying, bossy swot. B-but I wasn't trying to ruin anyone's f-fun. I was just worried, that's all," sobbed Hermione, a steady stream of tears down her face. Dave silently handed her a tissue which she took with a small, whispered thanks. "It's like they e-e-expect me to apologize for c-caring a-about... a-b-bout..."

"A pair of knuckleheads too up their own asses about sports."

"YES! It's not as if I don't u-understand why it's important to them, but they d-didn't even bother to look at it from a..."

"...A clearer, more nuanced perspective where you were more concerned for a friend's welfare than a ludicrous sportsball game that don't mean shit in the grand scheme of things?"

"YES!" Wiping away her tears with her palm, she gazed at him thoughtfully. "I could do with a bit less cursing, but you're a-actually quite good at this. How are you good at this?"

"I like to think it's because of the swearing." He grinned cheekily, eyebrows waggling. "But on the real, relationships are complicated as fuck. I've just had a bit longer to figure shit out than you. Y'all are young, navigating in a much larger world, realizing things ain't made of rainbows and sunbeams and all that other childish horse shit. It's confusing as hell, and it ain't gonna get that much easier, but... you start to work it out, y'know? Just give it time, they'll either come around or not."

"And if they don't come around?"Herimone said, with a miserable look on her face.

"Then fuck'em. Ain't worth your time if they can't see how awesome you are." If there was a way for her to look sadder, he had found the exact words to make it happen. "C'mere." She gazed up at him, looking very much like a wet cat. "For real, c'mere." With a shaky sigh, Hermione shuffled over to his side, squeaking when he threw an arm around her shoulder. Giving her a little squeeze, he reassured her. "I'm guessing these friends of yours will see the light. Like, trust me. They're gonna pull their heads out their asses and then you'll have the perfect passive aggressive ammo to bust out at any conceivable opportunity. And this kind of ammo is gonna last for years, dude. So don't worry."

"That's easy for you to say. What's a demigod got to worry about," she grumbled, picking at the sleeve of her sweater.

He gave her another squeeze, explaining to her slowly, "I'm gonna let you off the hook for that, cus you don't know my friends. They're straight up a bunch of douchebags, myself especially. We've had more than our share of disagreements, but we always come back to each other. Cus we're basically all we have - like family, 'cept you get to choose. Your friends ain't no different."

"You really think so?" she whispered in a very small voice.

"Yup, very sure in a completely sincere and not-ironic way, like I know that sounds like a goof or a joke, but really... it'll be cool. So stop worrying already." She gave him a little smile, her cheeks a little pink. After all, she'd never been held by a boy like this, especially one that was a little older than her and very good looking. Dave, completely unaware, gave her another squeeze and then ruffled her hair. She squawked indignantly, slapping at his hands again. "There's my good time buddy. So, I'm thinking... I ain't got nothing to do for the next while. This project we're working on is sort of stalled at the mo'. Figured since I got time, maybe we can make this a thing."

"What a thing?"

"I meet up with you whenever it's convenient for you, and you can talk about your problems or just chill, like the raddest of time buddies any universe ever did see."

It might be a sign of an inevitable mental breakdown, but she actually agreed. They had both decided that weekends would be best. But how they'd be able to contact each other for appropriate times and places to meet, she hadn't a clue.

"Don't worry 'bout it. I'll let you know," he insisted when she pressed him for details, as he'd outright refused to use owls - 'they wouldn't find me anyway' was his answer for why it was out of the question.

"But-"

"You're just gotta trust me on this one. When I see a good opportunity, I'll send you word."

"How-" but before she even asked the question, she realized he'd just answer time travel. "Fine. Send me word, then."

"Rad," he said, giving a thumbs up before his face turned more serious. "Welp, I think we've done all the damage we can today. Time to pack it in."

Grabbing her hand, she was pulled through time again. Thinking about it later, it had reminded her of the numerous times she'd ridden the Black Hole and other roller coasters at Alton Towers. There was a peculiar lurch in her stomach and a dizzying sensation as if she'd been pushed off a cliff. It never felt this way when she used the time turner... it didn't really feel like anything when she'd used it. It was very strange. She could only guess that perhaps time travel was different in his universe than her own somehow.

They appeared in the library only a few seconds after they'd left. Just in time for Madame Pince to come storming over to their table, breathing fire. She nearly chased them out of the library. Hermione half expected her to throw books at them as they ran pell-mell down the hallway. Dave was cackling wildly as he dragged her behind him. They stopped several hallways later, sweaty and breathing hard.

"Ohmigod... gonna check that box off my bucket list. That was the best. Shit, I wish I went here. I'd make it my personal mission to give that old bat an aneurysm," he gasped, resting himself against a wall.

"You're not alone... half the school wants to do exactly that." Privately, she thought it was a good thing he didn't go here. Merlin knew the kind of mayhem he'd get into if he joined up with troublemakers like Fred and George.

"That's the first time you said anything about this place that made any fucking sense."

Once they caught their breath, they meandered down the hall, Dave following Hermione as she knew where she was going. At the stairs that lead to Gryffindor tower, they stopped and he gave her a hug. Hermione's face went brick red as suddenly everything felt awkward. With a kind smile, he ruffled her hair again and giving her a little half-assed salute, he bid her goodbye and disappeared in a swirling maelstrom of clock gears. She gazed at the spot for a very long time, before letting out a tired little sigh and trudging joylessly towards the tower. Staring up at the canopy of her bed that night, she thought about sleep deprivation and stress and all the reasons why what she'd experienced tonight could not be real. Her sleep was restless and filled with chiming clocks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alton Towers is a real theme park located in the UK in Staffordshire. And the Black Hole was an actual roller coaster located in the park, opening its doors in 1983 and operating until 2005. It was an enclosed steel coaster/dark ride. I only know about it thanks to a really cool youtube channel, Defunctland.
> 
> -Since Hermione has not yet met John or Jane, she isn't aware that she ought to be far more terrified if they met Fred and George. The ensuing prank war between the four of them would probably be legendary. (and if anyone out there feels like it, write a god damned companion piece with that very scenario. I don't want to write it, but I'd love to read it.)
> 
> \- I am no good at rapping or poetry in general, so I saved everyone the trouble of me making any kind of attempt and had Dave quote the Beastie Boys instead. I think we can all thank our lucky stars that I made the right decision.


	3. Act 1: Pink Cat

The next week was one of the worst on record, in Hermione's opinion. It was full of lonely, pointed silences and meals all alone, and many, many trips to the library. By the time term had started, Hermione was almost relieved. She had thought a lot about the night of the 28th and had firmly concluded it was a stress induced delusion. A nice little vacation from reality, but hardly any different from a dream, which was an awful shame. It had been the only bit of fun she'd had the entire holiday.

She woke up on January 3rd having slept less than five hours, preparing for the day as if she were getting ready for a firing squad. On her way out of the girl's dorm, books in hand, she was stopped short by Lavender Brown.

"You dropped something," she pointed out, picking up a small scrap of paper that had been lazily folded by someone who clearly didn't care.

Looking at the uneven 'square' of paper, she took it from Lavender's proffered fingers, thanking her absently as she unfolded it. Apparently interested in whatever was on the note, Lavender skipped around to watch her open it, much to Hermione's annoyance.

It was some kind of poster from a muggle video game with abysmal box art which someone had crudely drawn over in Sharpie. The knight on the box had been modified with a pair of shades and had a red blurb written above him that said, "FORSOOHT n' get ur shit TOGETHER you chumpstick!" While the wizard had been made to look like her, which involved a dark brown blob of squiggly hair and a witch hat, the blurb over her head proclaimed proudly, "HOPY SHIT IM A WIZORD!" Even more strangely, there was another figure that had been drawn over.

This was a game based on Dungeons and Dragons, and if she remembered correctly from her short time playing a similar game when she was much younger, the class of the third figure was a seer. Someone had drawn glasses over the seer's face, red glasses. Crude black hair had been scribbled over the hood with a pair of candy corn colored horns sticking out of it and the symbol for Libra was drawn on the seer's tunic. The bubble over this figure's head was clearly written by someone else as the handwriting didn't match what was on the rest of the page, not mention that it was written in teal ink, rather than red or black.

It said simply, 'H33 H33 H33. S33 YOU SOON. >; ]'

" _Strange_ ," she thought, regarding the picture quizzically. There was a postscript on the back written in blocky red text with a time, "sunday, jan. 9 8:55 am astronomy tower. don't be late. DS".

Hermione could feel her cheeks becoming warm and knew she was blushing, in front of the school's worst gossip no less. Looking over at her roommate imploringly, she was frankly alarmed to see a sly smile as Lavender's eyebrows slowly raised.

"Who's DS?" Lavender asked with a slow, conspiratorial smile.

"Um, just a friend." Hermione winced, because it didn't sound like a statement.

"Oh, a friend-friend or a _friend._ " Lavender leaned hard on that last word, her eyebrows rising ever so slightly.

"A friend-friend," she replied, a bit too quickly.

"Mmm-hmm." Lavender nodded, her lips tipping up into a devilish grin and her eyes twinkling mischievously. " _Sure_ he is."

Before she could explain, Lavender flounced out with a hop in her step. Hermione moaned quietly, banging her head on one of the bedposts on her four-poster. The only reason Hermione wasn't panicking was that her thumb had been over the time and meeting place. Being that neither Lavender nor Parvati were particularly sneaky, avoiding them on the day of the meeting would be relatively easy. The only real difficulty would be dodging them in the common room for the next week, for they were sure to pester her about who DS might be. She could only hope their short attention span would keep them from being too distracting.

Luckily for Hermione, Daphne Greengrass had evidently been dumped by her most recent boyfriend rather publicly that morning right in the middle of breakfast. From what she'd heard there had been a very loud shouting match and then an entire ramekin of baked beans had been dumped over Theodore Nott's head before Daphne had stormed off, threatening to hex him if he said so much as a word to her. Such an awful spectacle would fuel the rumor mill for weeks while Hermione's positively boring meeting with an unknown friend was pushed to the back burner as all old news is. Though Lavender and Parvati themselves had badgered her a bit over who 'DS' might be, no one else seemed to care all that much.

The thought of the meeting was really the only thing that got her through that dreadful week. And not just because it'd be nice to have a friendly ear she could talk to but because it meant that she hadn't been hallucinating. Lavender had seen the note he'd sent, touched it with her fingers. And she'd been able to read the message. If she could do all those things, it had to be real.

Creeping out of her dorm at 8:30 in the morning, Hermione was relieved to find her dorm mates were still asleep. She had been half expecting them to be wide awake and more than willing to follow her to her morning meeting. Lavender and Parvati were the only obstacles she had counted on that morning. She in no way expected Harry to have been awake at this hour on a weekend but he was. Seeing that dark of mop of hair relaxing in front of the fire had honestly been the last thing on her mind, he usually slept in on weekends. Willing herself not to cry, she clutched her book bag and briskly walked by, glancing at him only once a bit hopelessly. That he didn't even bother to call after her to see where she was going so early in the morning stung.

With a heavy heart, she sat down on the cold cobblestone of the Astronomy Tower. It was 8:45 and she was trying desperately not to cry. Closing her eyes, she took several deep breaths, her head pressed into her knees. Just when she felt tears prickling, someone ruffled her hair. There was only one person whom she'd ever let ruffle her hair.

"Hey there, how's my time buddy?" She looked up at him with puffy, red rimmed eyes. "Pretty bad, eh?" She nodded miserably. "S'bout to get better. Brought a friend," he said, jabbing behind him at the silhouette of a woman, hidden by shadow.

The darkness seemed to slide off of her until it revealed a person she had only ever seen in a faded photograph. She was taller than Hermione had imagined but her hair was just as riotous as it had been in the picture, it drifted lightly in the wind. Her bright pink eyes were more vibrant and electric than any photo could capture. Dark, full lips formed a large smile, so overflowing with joy one could almost think she'd seen a long lost relative, rather than a girl she'd never met before. She let out a high pitched squeal that sounded like a tea kettle going off before she took a couple of very deep breaths while fluttering her hands excitedly.

"I'm sorry... it's just, I'm a HUGE fan. It's a friggin' honor to me you, like for reals. Can I shake your hand?" the pink eyed girl asked, pausing contemplatively before glancing over at Dave." Would it be weird to ask for an autograph or...?"

"Dude, you are a fucking mess," Dave chuckled, shaking his head ruefully.

"Oh, fuck you, Strudel," she guffawed merrily. "S'not every day you meet your literary hero."

"Wait... what do you mean?"

The pink eyed girl grinned, giving her a little wink. "Don't pay no attention to my silly ass, I'm just full of beans this morning. Dave's told me a lot about you, that's all. Roxy Lalonde, pleasure ta meetcha," she said, offering her hand which Hermione shook slowly. "Okay. We need to get on the road, because we gots a ton of shit planned for today."

"We do?" squeaked Hermione, she had been under the impression that this meeting would be more low key, like last time.

"Hells yeah we do! Dave brought me in cus he said you need to have a good time. And errybody knows good times are my deal. Gave me the 411 on all your mad sads. I aim to fix that, cus doing a bunch of castle moping ain't gonna solve nuthin', IMHO. Thought we outta get out for a bit, do something fun."

"Like what?" the young witched asked, looking over at Dave who gave her a lazy thumbs up as if that was enough to convince her that whatever they had planned wasn't just ill advised shenanigans.

"The kind of fun that's a surprise," Roxy replied, wiggling her eyebrows. "So, we get to point two on our agenda. See, Dave ain't so good at the whole transportation deal. Time travel is supes dangerous, ya know. Going places that way is looking for trouble in a bad way. Now, I ain't no expert. That's Jade and John, but they ain't available, as always." She rolled her eyes dramatically and laughed. "I do know a thing or two about going to a place or three. But if you're gonna travel my way, ya _gotta_ trust me."

Without further preamble, she pulled out a large bright red rifle with a ridiculously long barrel. Shouldering it, she walked to the very edge of the Astronomy Tower, long purple striped scarf flapping behind her heroically. With clearly practiced ease, she aimed and fired it. Hermione, expecting a loud rapport, covered her ears before realizing that she didn't need to. It only made a strange soft 'bwoing' sound because the rifle didn't fire bullets. It fired what looked like a whole window but what Roxy called a Fenestrated Plane.

"Basically, it's like a portal that allows you to travel from one place to 'nother by using the space between dimensions, aka The Furthest Ring. But it's real tricky to use, on account of having to travel through a nearly unnavigable void which is hella dangerous for peeps who ain't got my type of mad skeelz. Hence, why trust is important here, you do _not_ wanna get lost in the Furthest Ring," she explained, holding her rifle loosely at her side. "So this is how it's gonna go. Dave's gonna go in first and then me n' you. Portal auto-closes behind us and I open up another portal that gets us to our destination-"

"Wait, wait!" Hermione objected nervously. "This doesn't sound any safer than time travel! If Dave goes first won't he-"

Dave cut her off. "I'm touched and all, but don't worry 'bout me. Got a map of the Ring all memorized. One of them long boring stories I ain't never gonna get around to telling you about."

"All right, then. How are we going to go about entering the portal?" Hermione snapped, jabbing at the Fenestrated Plane as it hung in the air a good ten feet away from the edge of the Astronomy Tower. "We'll fall to our deaths!"

Roxy and Dave looked at each other knowingly, small smiles appearing on their faces. "Show her," Roxy challenged, gesturing with a hand at the portal.

Nodding back mutely, he approached the edge of the tower, standing there as a fierce January wind rippled his clothes. His feet slowly left the pockmarked cobblestone until he was suspended easily in the air. He floated for only a moment before hurtling towards the portal at distressing speed, disappearing into its depths without a sound. Hermione's jaw dropped, mouth working soundless as she stared at the place Dave had been.

Roxy, mistaking her silence for awe and not mortal terror, smiled and said, "Neat trick, right? So, our turn next."

Shaking her head slowly, Hermione took a step back, uttering a single, soft, "No."

Approaching her like she was a scared cat, Roxy carefully put her hand on the young witch's shoulders. "Hey... lookit me," she instructed, repeating herself until Hermione met her eyes. "You're gonna be with me and I ain't lettin' nothing happen to you. You gotta trust I got your back."

"I can't f-fly," she stuttered, her eyes darting from Roxy to the portal. "I c-can't-"

"But I can," Roxy stated with not just a little bit of humor.

She grabbed the young witch gently by her hands and their feet slowly left the ground. Hermione let out a shrill gasp, convulsively squeezing Roxy's hands. They hovered there for a bit. It was a bit of kindness on Roxy's part to help Hermione feel a bit more comfortable. At the very least, the young witch had stopped shaking, though she refused to open her eyes. Somehow, Roxy coaxed her into allowing her to slip an arm behind her back. Breathing shallowly, Hermione's hand clutched the back of Roxy's dark blue pea coat in a death grip and buried her face into her friend's shoulder. Accelerating without warning, Hermione screamed and her eyes shot open as the world became a blur. They entered the portal at full speed, just as Dave had moments before.

The difference between being outside of the portal and being inside was stark. There was an oppressive void of feeling; it was neither warm nor cold. Though they were traveling at a quick pace, there was no wind against her face. All sound was dampened and flat as if everything was muffled by a large pillow. Worst of all was the complete and utter darkness that was so thick she couldn't tell if her eyes were opened or closed. Halfway through the journey and she had begun to almost prefer the terror of flying to whatever terrible place this was.

There was a muffled 'bwong" sound and suddenly she could see a faint square of light - a portal that was swimming through the darkness to meet them. And just like that, they were thrown from the void into the comparatively bright January light. She could see and hear and feel again, the terrible darkness of the void loosening its grip on her. It took a good five minutes for Hermione to recover, to remember that she existed in the world and not that dark place. Roxy was terribly patient enough to allow her to hold onto her arms for a bit. After taking a very deep breath, she finally looked around to discover that she knew where they were. This was the bit of forest in front of the Shrieking Shack, which glowered gloomily in the distance.

"Hogsmeade... we're in Hogsmeade," Hermione whispered anxiously.

"Yup," Dave confirmed casually. "Rox told me about this place. Figured it'd be more fun than skulking 'round that musty ass castle. Plus, added bonus, it'll be easier for us to blend here."

She gave him a look of absolute shocked fury, shouting, "are you daft?! I'm a student and it's not a sanctioned Hogsmeade weekend! I'll stick out like a sore thumb! We all will, if we're being honest!"

"Imma need you to calm them tits," Roxy chided, easily interrupting the witch's oncoming tirade. "See, I got this rad sleeper power."

"Which is?" Hermione demanded fiercely.

"I'm sorta like a human invisibility cloak. If I don't want peeps noticing me, they don't notice. Simple as that."

Narrowing her eyes, the young witch tartly retorted, " _Is_ it then?"

"Wow, girlfriend here is tightly wound!" Roxy exclaimed, looking back at Dave, who sagely tipped his head to the side in agreement. "You gotta do two things. One, stop being such a tight ass. Two, _Trust me_. Got you through the void and here with no problems. I ain't lead you wrong yet."

Against her better judgment and all common sense, Hermione huffed and nodded. With a thousand megawatt smile, Roxy linked their arms and marched her down the path, away from the Shrieking Shack and towards Hogsmeade. Perhaps she just wanted to prove, if only to herself, that she wasn't the relentless rule monger her friends thought she was or maybe it was something else entirely. Maybe she was just tired and this strange detour in the road was what she needed right now.

As they entered the little village, her courage wavered and she squeezed Roxy's arm tightly. Roxy grinned, patting her hand comfortingly. "Relaaaaaaax. We got this."

The village wasn't nearly as busy as it was normally. After all, it was a Sunday and there weren't hordes of giggling teenagers bumbling about. But there were still a fair number of people on the street. Hermione stiffened nervously, her eyes wide as they darted around wildly. No one took note of the three teenagers in their midst. They smiled and nodded at them when they passed.

It took Hermione a moment, but she realized it was like they could and couldn't see them. She could see the way their eyes fell on them and then slid blankly past as if they weren't there at all. It was even stranger when they went into Honeydukes. The attendants were pleasant and friendly, helping them with their purchases as normal. But there was hollowness - a void, if you will - just behind their eyes. It was deeply unsettling.

It was noon and they were headed to the Three Broomsticks, Hermione could no longer contain her curiosity. "You're like Dave, then? A God... G-Godtier?" she asked in a soft, breathless little voice.

"That I am," Roxy affirmed, a sly smile creeping across her face.

"He said - He said that his specialty is Time. So, what I'm wondering is..." stuttered Hermione, pondering the entire time how to ask without being rude.

The older girl finished her question for her. "What MY specialty is?"

"Well, yes. Not to put too fine a point on it."

With a wide, toothy grin, Roxy poked the young witch in her arm several times. "Beep. Beep. Boop. No spoilers."

"What... what do you mean by that?"

"She means that it's for her to know and you to find out," Dave supplied coolly, playing with a strange little device she'd seen him with a number of times earlier in the day. He held it up and said, "say cheese."

Without further warning, a flash went off and it became clear that the device was probably a strange camera of sorts. Roxy let out a small, indignant scream. Her bright pink eyes narrowed and her lips thinned as she launched herself at Dave. There was a short slap-fight between them as she tried to wrest the device from his hands, without much success (it was somewhat clear she wasn't trying all that hard).

Cuffing the back of his head gently, she declared, "Is that any way to treat your mom?! Give me your damn phone!"

He handed it to her, pointedly rubbing his head. "Child abuse. I'm calling CPS, by the way."

Roxy stuck her tongue out at him like an adult. Looking through the gallery on his phone, she found the photograph and let out a very loud guffaw. She turned it so Hermione could see what she was looking at. There was, indeed, a picture of her and Roxy walking along the lane, eyes wide with the dumbest looks on their faces either one had ever worn. Hermione was all bushy haired surprise, like a cat that had its tail stepped on. Roxy's face was more pure confusion, with one lip lifted up crazily like she'd just smelt something weird. Hermione glared at Dave, pursing her lips angrily before she smoothed out her expression.

"Honestly," she scoffed, her head shaking back and forth with an almost affectionate amount of disgust. "How do I manage to surround myself with so many exasperating boys?"

Roxy giggled, it was a lovely sound. "Ppffft. You think Dave's exasperatin'? He's a fucking sweetheart compared to his brother."

"You sayin' I ain't the most exasperating Strider? You wound me, Lalonde," he complained, hand to his heart. "Gonna get sepsis from that wound that no antibiotic on earth can cure. RIP Dave Strider, raddest motherfucker in any universe."

"You mean there's one that's worse than him?" questioned Hermione, who valiantly tried to keep a straight face.

"Oh snap," Dave quipped before all three of them burst out laughing.

Hermione's heart felt lighter than air. These people were absolutely frustrating and needlessly mysterious, but they were also delightful to be around. She had laughed hard enough that she began to cry a little. Wiping her eyes, she thought these tears were so much better than the ones she'd shed the last few days. They felt cleansing, as if she was truly releasing just a bit of the stress that had been plaguing her as of late.

Arriving at their destination, they entered the welcome warmth of the Three Broomsticks. They were the only people under the age of thirty in the building. And no one made a note of it, not even Madame Rosmerta, who should have recognized Hermione, being one of Harry Potter's two best friends, or at the very least realized she was a student who was clearly out of bounds. With that unsettling blankness in her eyes she sat them at a nice table near the back, promising a waitress would be with them soon.

"Aspect," Roxy corrected as they sat down at a table.

"What?" Hermione was distracted by the unnerving effects of Roxy's power and hadn't been paying attention.

"Time is Dave's _Aspect_ , not his specialty."

Getting her bearings, she realized that Roxy was continuing a previous conversation. Still puzzled, Hermione commented, "I don't quite see the difference."

But before she could ask another question a waitress interrupted them. She was cursing the intrusion, sure that she'd never receive an answer. From all the tantalizing hints, these people had incredible power so different from her own. She wanted to know how it worked; her mind reeling with thoughts of how she'd pull all that information apart and then put it back together again. If only they'd let her at it.

But incredibly, once their food and drinks were delivered minutes later, Roxy answered her unspoken question. "So, you wanna know the different between specializing in somethin' and an Aspect?" Hermione nodded, nibbling at her chips absently. "Anyone can specialize in something. My speciality is guns. Really good with 'em. Dave's _actual_ specialty is swords."

"More like breaking 'em," Dave murmured before biting into his sandwich.

"Hush you! There's no self-deprecation on the S.S. Rolal," Roxy growled, scowling at him as she threw a fry at his head, which he caught with two fingers. "Anyways, Aspects are different cus they ain't something you just learn from practice or a book. Aspects are an innate part of who you are, as unchangeable as your DNA."

"So it's like my magic, then," Hermione mused thoughtfully.

"Hrm. Yeah, sorta," Roxy hedged, looking over to Dave for help. "Cept also not."

"No help for you here, Lalonde. Rose is way better explaining this shit than me."

Roxy hummed softly in agreement. "You're right. She's way better at this crap."

Things went a bit quiet then. Hermione was dreadfully disappointed, for a bright, shining moment she had almost had some answers. Well, she supposed she did sort of have a partial answer, so that was something. She turned her questions to the "phone" Dave had taken their picture with. Not only was it an electrical device, but it was one she hadn't ever seen before and it worked perfectly well in a highly magical environment. Dave and Roxy were all too happy to talk about it, explaining its function in a way that reminded her vividly of Fred and George. It was called an iPhone and that it and other devices like it would be ubiquitous in the not so distant future. She noticed that they had dodged any questions of why it worked within the bounds of a wizarding village, when it really shouldn't have.

Hermione was thoroughly nonplussed. "You shouldn't be telling me this, if that's really some kind of muggle technology from the future." She felt stupid even saying it, feeling vaguely as if she'd entered some bad science fiction movie. "That kind of knowledge is dangerous," she said, turning to Dave specifically. "As a fellow time traveler, I'd have thought you'd know better."

The Knight of Time had the unmitigated audacity to grin at her. "Yeah, but here's the thing," he said, pausing dramatically. "What you gonna do with that info?"

"Well, I mean... one could..." she sputtered, clearly not expecting his comeback.

"Nothing. And even if someone unscrupulous overheard it..." he trailed off, glancing at Roxy.

"Ain't nothing we talk about together gonna creep out without my say so. Cus obfuscation of information is my jam," she finished, taking a swig of pumpkin juice. She looked at the glass appraisingly. "This shit is _way_ better than I ever imagined it."

The conversation turned to more mundane things. Roxy asked her about Arithmancy, because Dave had mentioned something about it to her. And suddenly his idle perusal of her book seemed a bit more welcome, because though Dave didn't understand much of it, Roxy did. Hermione had taken her for a bit of ditz, really. Oh, she was very kind and endlessly mysterious, but she had a gregarious, open disposition that Hermione had immediately judged as wanting. She felt bad that she'd made such harsh assumptions before even giving the older girl a chance. Roxy had a very nimble mind and though she had a rather colorful way of speaking, Hermione could see her genius.

It was a breath of fresh air to talk to someone about a subject you were passionate about and not have to suffer them asking you to speak English, as if you weren't doing so already. And the fact that she was able to make a connection between Arithmancy and various different muggle mathematical disciplines, like Differential Equations in relation to various phenomena in physics, was a very welcome surprise indeed. There were a number of different types of equations used in the muggle world to describe dynamically changing phenomena and they were very accurate when worked correctly and incredibly useful. The immediate application of such equations in Arithmancy was blatantly obvious to her. It had become a point of contention between her and her classmates, many of whom were born to wizarding families and therefore put little stock in anything to do with muggles. Roxy shared her frustration.

The conversation moved on from there, though all of it vaguely orbited mathematical and scientific theories that they were both passionate about. Roxy commenting at one point that she should get together with Dirk and Jade, as this conversation was right up their alley. And from there more personal anecdotes were shared on both sides, which allowed Dave to contribute to the dialogue as math was not remotely his thing. It was frankly the most intelligent, logical conversation Hermione had in a while. The three of them had been so absorbed in their conversation that they'd lost all track of time.

"Hate to break up this nerd-fest by being the wettest of all blankets, but, uh, we gots to get back," Dave interrupted, lazily playing with his phone.

Hermione checked her watch and was shocked to find it was nearly five o'clock. "Goodness, time does fly, doesn't it?" she remarked with some wonder. "I... I want to thank you both. I know I can sometimes be a bit of a pill, but you've both been so lovely and-"

Roxy shook her head, placing her hand over Hermione's. "It ain't no thing. You're our friend. We'll always have your back." And the way she said it conveyed a depth of meaning that was almost alarming. She wasn't speaking as if this friendship was new, as it truly was. She spoke of it as if they'd been friends for quite a bit longer.

"More casual spoilers?" Hermione asked, an eyebrow arching questioningly.

"Nah, just causal facts," Roxy replied, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Let's get this princess home. Can't have just anyone ganking her gourds."

One disconcerting dark journey through the void later, she was back on the astronomy tower saying goodbye to her new friends. She had more questions than ever and even fewer answers. But it didn't matter. Dave gave her a fist bump. Roxy gave her an over-exuberant hug. And they both promised to see her later, Roxy, in particular, promised to stop in a bit more often than Dave, who apparently had things he had to do.

"His schedule is way fuller than mine," Roxy said with a little wink. With that, she opened another portal, waving goodbye back at her before disappearing into the Fenestrated Plane with Dave. The strange window hung in the air for a second or two before abruptly winking out of existence with a thunderous 'pop'. Hermione stood there for a moment longer, staring at the space the window had occupied, the joy slowly draining from her face. Turning slowly, she walked away with a very heavy heart, heading back to the common room and all the worries and woes she had left behind, if for only a day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some very definite reasons as to why Roxy hasn't told Hermione what her Aspect is, which we won't get into for a very long time.
> 
> My update schedule, such as it is, may slow down a bit after this chapter so I can finish the story. It is very close to completion. But I don't want to do a bunch of swift updates and then make you wait.


	4. Act 1: Contention

The next few weeks were the best and the worst of her life up to that point. It was very easy to focus on the negative things that had happened. Those things being that the relations between the two boys she'd once called her best friends had worsened, if possible. Evidently, it was her fault that a cat acted like a cat.

She had tried to keep an eye on Crookshanks, she really had! But cats do as they please and she'd lost track of him. It wasn't as if she didn't feel awful about what happened to Scabbers. She was mortified, in fact. But Ron and Harry had acted as if she'd set Crookshanks on the rat on purpose. It didn't help that she was seriously overwhelmed by all her coursework, not to mention all the research she was doing for Hagrid for Buckbeak's hearing.

She was stressed out and so, so tired; spending nearly every moment she had trying not to have a complete emotional breakdown. Somedays she had to settle for just not crying in frustration over something silly, like accidentally dropping her toothbrush. Hermione wasn't sure what would get her first, the stress from her studies or all the unnecessary teenage angst.

There was one, small ray of sunshine in her otherwise gloomy forecast; weekends with Roxy and Dave, which was now a regular thing. Dave was usually only available on the weekends. But it was nice because from Friday night to Sunday, he'd pop in with Roxy who was a much more frequent visitor. She'd showed up almost every day of the week at various times according to her own whimsical nature, apropos of nothing. Hermione would arrive at one of her classes and there Roxy would be - waiting for her dressed in Gryffindor robes. At one point or the other, Roxy had showed up for almost every class. No one ever questioned her, not even the teachers. At this point, Hermione had somewhat gotten used to the glazed look on people's faces when they looked at her. The only class the older girl had outright refused to go to was Potions. She wouldn't say precisely why.

"Can't take the chance of him ferretin' me out and stickin' his nose in my biz," Roxy had said in a tone that was a trifle ominous. "Dude sees through fuckery like it owes him money. And I'm made of 100% pure American bullshit - the best god damned fuckery on this planet."

Hermione couldn't really blame her. Snape was a deeply unpleasant person, and a terrible teacher, in her opinion; though she had a feeling that Roxy's misgivings were less about Snape's abilities as a teacher or a person, but something more ephemeral. She wasn't sure, but Hermione had worked out that it had to do with Roxy's abilities - her Aspect. Something about Snape, a peculiar power only he had, either neutralized or negated entirely her "sleeper" power. Meaning, he might be able to see her _and_ remember her, which would clearly blow her cover.

Even so, Hermione secretly wished she would come anyway. It was the worst of all her classes, with the exception of Divination, and it would have been nice to have a bit of moral support. Plus, Roxy was pretty good with potions and all the theories behind them. She'd been helping the young witch with her homework at night in the library. When Hermione mentioned this, Roxy had let out a fully belly laugh.

"Just simple chemistry," she pointed out with a light hearted shrug. "Wish my bffsie Janey was here. Think she'd be way more helpful, what with all the cooking she gets up to."

"Cooking is better than chemistry, then?" Hermione asked archly.

"Nah, they're really similar when you get right down to it. But I just feel like she'd come at it from a more creative perspective than I can. Probably figure out a shit ton of amazing shortcuts that'd blow your fucking mind."

Any other day, Hermione might have pursued the argument. But Roxy had brought her some biscuits Jane had baked, and they were the most delicious things she'd ever eaten. They were apparently a recipe of her own invention. And if that was what she could do with flour, sugar, and eggs, Hermione could only hope to imagine what she'd do with more magical ingredients.

"Let me see your parch," Roxy drawled, breaking Hermione out of her momentary reverie.

_Let me see your parch_ , it was a little in joke that started only a few days ago when she'd been reviewing her Arithmancy notes for the parchment she was writing. For any student, there comes a point when working on a project where you know something is wrong, but no matter how hard you try, your brain can't pinpoint where your error might be. That point where you begin to hate everything you've written and where it almost seems more useful to throw everything you've done in the bin. It is a desperately terrible feeling.

With a frustrated growl, Hermione had discovered that she was at that point. She was about to crumple up her parchment and maybe set it on fire, until Roxy had said those magic words, "let me see your parch." After a great deal of bemused misunderstanding, she'd handed Roxy her parchment. Ten minutes later, Roxy had given it back to her and explained where she'd gone wrong and the rest was history.

The silly way her new friend shortened things that didn't need shortening was as endearing as it was annoying. It should have aggravated Hermione, and once upon a time it might have. As it was, she found it more amusing than anything else. Handing over her parchment, Hermione watched as Roxy carefully checked over her homework. It was nice having another pair of eyes to look over her work. It was nice just having someone who understood it.

It was nice having a female friend... she didn't really have many of them. Being the best friend of the Boy Who Lived had its ups and downs. One of those was, well, it was hard to trust other girls as they very often were using her as a way to get to Harry. And it didn't really help that Hermione was a bit of a fuss budget and in general found it hard to make friends, period. She didn't have much time or inclination for frivolity, which most of her peers seemed to enjoy. They thought she was a prude or a killjoy.

Roxy had a lot of the qualities that those other girls had. She was often very silly and fun loving above all else. She was reckless and loved drama. But deep down, Roxy could be very serious and driven. She hid it well, covering it with a hundred ridiculous ruses but it was there. There was a saying Hermione once heard, which sounded very cheesy and it had made her eyes roll just reading it... the idea that someone could be silk covering steel. She still thought it was a very cheap romance novel way of saying something, but it fit Roxy perfectly. Roxy Lalonde was a woman who looked and sometimes acted like a pretty bauble - eye catching nothingness - but deep down in her very core, she was made of steel. And she was Hermione's first real friend she'd made outside of Harry and Ron. The first really good female friend she'd ever had.

In her very secret of heart of hearts, she was more than just a friend to Hermione. Being an only child is a very lonely way to grow up. She'd look at her cousins, who all had siblings of their own or more recently Ron and his very large family. They had all said that she was lucky. Hermione never felt she was lucky at all. Just because she was the only child, didn't mean that she got any more attention than children with siblings did.

Oh, you got your own room. And all your toys were yours and you needn't worry about siblings breaking or misplacing them. And if you made good grades or did all your chores, the accolades were yours and yours alone. But there was no one else to play with. You could try to engage your parents but most of the time they could hardly be bothered - adult things took up their time and were far more important than you and whatever game you wanted to play.

Hermione distinctly remembered having tea parties with a dozen imaginary friends (which was far less fun than the movies lead her to believe) or playing board games with her stuffed animals, cheating and being angry at herself because what was the point... you can't really argue with yourself properly, could you. And if you were too noisy or if you broke something important, something grownups cared about, there'd be no one else to share the blame. There was no one to share anything with at all. And very, very quickly, childhood games lost their luster.

In the end, turning to books was the natural choice for an only child. Reading books was quiet. Reading books didn't disturb your parents when they were watching the nightly news or had their friends or colleagues over. Reading books meant you were ahead in your studies and that you could skip an entire grade. Reading books made your parents proud... made them pay attention to you and only you for just a moment. Yes, Hermione supposed there were some good things about being an only child - but if she were honest, it had been lonely. Very, very lonely.

So deep in her secret heart, Hermione had always wanted a sister or a brother. And if she were to be really honest, she had always wanted an older sibling - an older _sister_ , in point of fact. Someone she could talk to about all the things that made little girls giggle and all the things that made them cry. Someone just older than her to be a little more responsible, more mature, but no so old that they couldn't understand her hopes and dreams. Hermione would not admit it out loud, not under pain of death, but she had begun to see Roxy in that secret little heart as the kind of older sister she had always wished she had.

Pink eyes peaked over parchment, slowly revealing the mischievous smile hidden behind it, as if she knew where Hermione's thoughts had gone. "Wanna know the verdict?" The young witch nodded, Roxy was a tough but fair critic and Hermione deeply respected her opinion. "It's poifect! All your 'T's dotted and your 'I's crossed," she exclaimed, rolling the parchment and handing it back to Hermione. "Not that I expected anything less."

Carefully rolling it back out, the young witch examined her own work critically. "Are you sure? I feel like the solution for the second equation is far too simple and I'm not sure I explained it right - I couldn't get the wording to work the way I wanted."

Roxy hummed, her tongue sticking out briefly as she thought. "I get what you're tryin' to say. But, like, the simplest equations are sometimes the most elegant, when you get down to it... and your wording don't gotta be flawless. You just gotta get across the meaning. So long as you got that right, who gives a fuck? Amiright?"

"I suppose," admitted Hermione reluctantly, restlessly twisting a small lock of hair between her fingers. "I just feel like I ought to do more. Like I'm missing something..."

"Y-e-e-e-ah, but if you keep pickin' at it, you're just gonna make a mess. Now, don't get me wrong, messes can be fun," Roxy mused, gesturing expressively with her hands. "But there's a time and a place for fucking around. And we can both agree, this parch ain't the time or place for it. It's like a good friend once told me - sometimes you just gotta put the fucking chalk down or it's just gonna smudge like a motherfucker."

"I've heard that before, but isn't it about a paint brush?"

"Mmmhmm. 'Cept my friend was more partial to chalk. It's easier to lick."

It was just like her friend to find the right kind of conversation to take her mind off things. Resting her chin in her hand, she remarked, "Are you implying that this friend of yours licks chalk?"

"Ain't no implying. She straight up licks chalk. Well, _red_ chalk specifically. Sorta has a thing for that color. Probably go apeshit over these robes we're wearing," she said, indicating the bright scarlet details on their school robes.

Hermione laughed lightly. "So I suppose your friend would unquestioningly belong in Gryffindor?"

"Fuck yeah, she would. It'd be obnoxious for everyone involved. Ask Dave once about Terezi and the color red. It's a fucking hilarious story."

Dave and Roxy had mentioned many of their friends, not to mention their relations. She'd heard a lot about John and Jade from Dave. John was his best friend "in the whole fucking world" who loved ridiculously bad movies and Jade was also his best friend but also a partner in crime, as they often worked together. She liked dogs and orchids and was extremely silly by all accounts. Roxy talked glowingly of her bffsie, Jane, almost all the time. She also mentioned Jake more than once - a boy they'd all had a crush on at some point, even though he was kind of a dork. Not to mention all the stories relating to Rose and Dirk. There were so many stories about the six of them, Hermione almost felt as if she'd met them already, despite only ever seeing pictures of them.

It was in her nature to pull at strings, and this string was loose and lying there so temptingly. "You've never mentioned a Terezi before, have you?"

Roxy paused for a second and hummed. "No, I haven't. Weird. Yeah, she's one of our other friends. Real piece of work."

"So, what IS it with her and the color red?" Hermione queried, attempting to act as if she wasn't on the hunt for more information.

"Weeeell, Dave could tell the story better," Roxy hedged, subtly aware of how her friend was attempting to manipulate her and willingly going along with it, capricious as ever. Relenting, she explained, "It's just, 'Rezi's favorite color is red. Like she _really_ fucking loves the color and that's really all there is to it. She normally writes in this shade of teal but there was just this one time she switched to red and Dave said she nearly had a stroke. It's kinda difficult to explain. Like I said, it's Dave's story and he's way better at the buildup." She gave her an apologetic shrug.

Hermione had then let the conversation slip to other topics, but inside all she could whisper to herself was 'teal, she wrote in teal'. The moment Roxy had left her at the entrance to Gryffindor tower she had sped up to her room. Pulling the curtains around her four-poster, she frantically tore apart the contents of her school bag until she found the long forgotten note written on a poster Dave had left her seemingly ages ago. Smoothing it out, she carefully touched the words written in teal ink. 'S33 YOU SOON.' It was silly but it felt a like some kind of portent or omen. Replacing the 'E's with threes had seemed, at the time, rather nonsensical but ultimately harmless. But now she wondered if there might be something there, a message.

In her limited spare time, she spent a total of three hours between classes and homework using every conceivable Arithmantic equation to figure it out. She even went so far as to use ordinary algebra to see if she could find some meaning beyond the surface of the message. But there was nothing. No matter how she combined the numbers, it all added up to nonsense - not even the now normal obfuscation she was used to in relation to her new friends. She could only conclude that perhaps she was just reading too deeply for something that clearly wasn't there. In the end, it was just an addendum to a note that had more to do with Dave seeing her soon after giving her the note, rather than something more prophetic.

Still, _S33 YOU SOON_... there was a part of her that just couldn't help but think there was something more going on here. They kept talking about a project they were working on. There were vague mentions of them not even being from the same universe. Hermione at first had thought it had been some kind of terrible joke, because she had never entirely understood the American sense of humor. There was also the off chance that they had been making reference to some piece of American muggle media that she hadn't seen. They did it quite often but it occurred to her as she thought that night, that whenever they did make a reference they'd usually explain it.

She had taken a lot on faith; perhaps too much. But it just didn't seem as if they were up to anything untoward. Her mind immediately went to Harry, who attracted trouble like a moth to candlelight. But neither of them ever expressed any interest in him at all. At one point Dave had even called him Jerry Pooter, and she wasn't entirely sure if he was joking or not. She got the distinct impression that he didn't even know who Harry was (beyond a few well known facts) or why everyone else seemed so fixated on him. Roxy, at least, knew who he was, but she didn't seem any more interested in him than Dave.

And then there was the slip Roxy had made when they first met - she had said literary hero. She'd taken it back a second later, indicating that it was on account of how much Dave had talked about her. But it had seemed to Hermione then and now, that it was a cover - she had only said that to explain the slip up. There were a thousand little details like this, that were off by just a little bit... but for the life of her, Hermione could not get any one of these details to form a coherent picture.

The one thing she did know for sure was that they were very powerful and they most certainly were not wizards. The feel of their power was different from any wizard or witch she'd met. There was something decidedly dangerous about the feel of it, a wildness in it that was frightening. Something deep within her, something primal, was terrified of it - the way the air pressure dropped when they entered a room, the deadly purpose behind that feeling. Dave made jokes about being a demigod - it was clear he didn't take it seriously when he called himself that. But Hermione was sure it wasn't all that far off the mark.

Her professors were powerful and the few times they'd show an inkling of what they could really do, it had left her breathless. But it wasn't just the breathlessness of someone unleashing that much power that she felt the one time Dave had time traveled with her in tow. It was the fact that she knew with grim certainty that he wasn't even using _half_ of his real strength. And if she was really being honest, he wasn't even using a quarter of it. His single demonstration seemed like he wasn't doing anything more complicated than turning on a tap. Roxy was the same way, though she wasn't as overt or flashy as Dave. There was no incantation, no gesture, no potion, no wand, nothing. She willed people not to see her and they didn't, like she'd flicked off some universal switch.

It was maddening. Perhaps some of her aggravation showed, because the next day when Roxy met her for her first class, she noticed the change in demeanor immediately. She badgered Hermione relentlessly, until just after lunch when the young witch finally exploded - letting out every last doubt and all the strange contradictions she'd been brushing off for weeks. The look on the older girl's face was nothing short of grave.

"Listen, I understand why you're upset but there's stuff we can't tell you," she said, speaking slowly. She looked at Hermione then, really looked at her, as if she was making some kind of decision. "I suppose I owe you at least some kind of explanation."

Without a warning, she touched the young witch's shoulder. Her vision went black and suddenly they were in the deserted corridor where she'd first met Dave. Hermione stumbled, feeling suddenly very sick. The world was spinning uncomfortably. Taking a deep breath, she braced herself against a balustrade. Cool highland wind buffeted her face; it made her feel slightly less like vomiting.

"Sorry 'bout that. S'why I don't use my powers to transport folks directly - tends to make people wanna yartz." Hermione didn't say anything, though she did give her a very baleful look. "Thought privacy was more important though," said Roxy with a jerky little shrug.

Her gaze was firmly focused on the landscape, harsh January wind whipping her hair fiercely. This was Roxy at her most serious, the steel she so effectively hid. Hermione hadn't realized that she could look like that - like a hardened veteran of some long forgotten war. She had no clue how close to the mark she had come.

"There's plenty of stuff we haven't told you, that's true. Ain't cus we're trying ta hoodwink ya or that we're balls deep into some nefarious hijinks. It's cus some of the shit we're here to do is dangerous as fuck, and I don't wanna involve you in that. Cus if it ain't obvious before, lemme be _real_ clear. The shit we get up to is beyond you," and as she said this, she looked Hermione dead in the eyes - her own vibrant pink eyes shining fiercely. "And not just cus you're a kid. Wouldn't matter if you was full grown and at your most powerful. Y'all aren't _made_ for the shit we deal with. And that's a god damned good thing. I care 'bout you enough to not want to entangle you in our bullshit."

She gazed back out at the highlands pensively. The fierceness was gone, replaced by bone deep sadness. Her eyes were watery and far away, her lips pinched and thin. Hermione felt terrible. What had happened to Roxy to make her face look like that? Did Hermione even really want to know? Silence stretched between them for a very long time.

"When you got the time turner, they told you how hazardous time travel can be, right?" It was the first thing she'd said in twenty minutes. Her gaze didn't leave the distant horizon.

"Y-yes," Hermione replied hesitantly.

"What they tell you about it?"

"That it was dangerous... that you couldn't be seen, by anyone, but especially by any future or past versions of yourself. They said that some wizards had gone mad when they did - even going so far as killing their own double and creating a paradox."

"And you only got five hours on that thing. Imagine what it's like to have the entire timeline at your disposal," Dave intoned, appearing at her other elbow all whirling clockwork gears. "To become a God Tier in some respect you gotta not just master your Aspect but accept it. When Time is your Aspect, that means you gotta accept the fact that you'll die a thousand deaths to keep your timeline intact and whole. You'll go back again and again, spinning those gears until you work it out; till you find where you fucked up."

Hermione glanced at him. He was leaning back against the balustrade, looking artfully unbothered in that languorous way that seemed to define him. His glasses were perched on his head, which was the only indicator anything might be off. She supposed it was the things he said, the unspoken admission that she was too afraid to confirm. In the end, she didn't have to.

"Don't know if I died a thousand times. Lost count a long time ago," he stated bluntly. His strange eyes which were normally so bright and expressive were flat like the slowly dying embers of a fire. He sighed, it was a frustrated sound. "So here we are. Shit's awkward as fuck." Looking over at Hermione, it was obvious she was seconds away from tears. He gave an expert oh-god-360 eyeroll, flicking her forehead with a finger. "You think too much. Or like, over think it. Fuck. Just, get a lid on your shit. Everything's cool. You were just protecting your timeline and responsible timeline management is why we're time buddies, okay."

He held out a fist and she slowly bumped her fist against his, her eyes glassy. Then she burst into tears rather noisily. Dave slipped his glasses back on, looking positively alarmed. Roxy, however, went to immediately hug her. In seconds they both were crying and apologizing, and eventually Dave got dragged into a ridiculously uncomfortable group hug situation. The awkwardness was a thing that was never gonna stop happening.

Tears were dried. The young man who was suffering from the current lack of personal space was summarily released from his short sentence in friend jail. And plans were made for that very Sunday. Dave said they had something big, which was why he stopped by on a "non-regulation" day.

"It's sorta a good news/bad news deal," said Roxy, wiping neatly at her hopelessly smudged eyeliner. "Me n' Dave have been figuring out the logistics of it forever. Lotsa movin' parts. Soooo... d'ya wanna hear the good news or the bad news first?"

"I suppose the good news," Hermione sniffed, dabbing at her red, puffy eyes.

"We've been cooking up a real small shindig for you. Ain't nothing big. Just me, you, Dave, and a couple of special guests."

"It's gunna be a real hootenanny," drawled Dave with a terrible attempt at a Southern accent. "Gonna get old timey as hell up in this piece. We got that good backwoods hooch all stuffed away in a big fucking barrel. Barrel so god damned big you'd see it from the moon. S'why it's called moonshine. Gonna get crunk as hell and get chased by some cops through byzantine Louisiana backroads, get lost and then high five a Minotaur. Best god damned getaway Boss Hog done never seen."

Roxy looked at him, her face halfway between amusement and befuddlement. "Who the fuck is Boss Hog?" Dave looked up from his phone and shrugged unhelpfully. She rolled her eyes and smiled broadly. "Aaaanyway... so that's the good news. Bad news is - it's gonna be a going away party."

Hermione's heart stopped. She could feel her hands trembling. "What... why?" she whispered breathlessly. This couldn't be happening.

Alarmed, Roxy held up her hands and waved them in a shushing motion. "No, no,no! It's not cus of anything that happened today. Please, don't get the wrong idea!"

"Then what idea would you like me to have?!" Hermione demanded tearfully.

"Well, it's j-just... you k-know we c-can't s-stuh-stay," began Roxy, her voice very wobbly.

They stood there silently for a moment or two; Roxy still stumbling over her words, tears smudging her makeup worse than ever. Hermione felt numb as her own tears coursed down her cheeks in hot waves. Both of them were trembling with emotion uncontrollably. Dave watched this all blandly; annoyed that he'd have to step up and save this situation from becoming a complete clusterfuck, again.

"Jesus fucking- can you two put a fucking cap on the waterworks for, like, two seconds?! Y'all are acting like someone fucking died. We're just going away cus we _have_ to, not cus we _want_ to. We got obligations. So do you. Fuck me," he bellowed, sounding a bit more rancorous than he had intended. "And s'not like we're going away forever. We'll see each other again."

"When," Hermione sniffled hoarsely, her voice congested.

"In approximately four years, give or take," supplied Dave with a regretful smile.

"That's ages!"

"Well, not in the grand scheme of things," he commented, grimacing a bit at the harshness of the statement. She glared at him mutinously. He frowned at her, his expression softening until it became obvious he had come to a hard, but necessary decision. "Real talk. Things are gonna heat up for you and your little boyfriend in the next few years-"

Hermione interrupted him immediately, shouting, "HE'S NOT MY-"

"Yeah, cool. Whatever. Don't care," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "Fact is, your life for the next four years is gonna become an inescapable maelstrom of flaming dicks. All perky and impudent, smacking you in your face like those little bug-eyed demons in a Bosch painting. Just relentless dick demons all up in your shit, flagellating like a bunch of highly flammable assholes. That's gonna be your life. And your head needs to be 100% in the game for that. Distracting you has been fun, but realistically, it can't go on. You gotta keep that big noggin of yours focused on the very serious shit going on _right here_." As he said it, he gestured to the ground forcefully. "Eyes on the prize and all that."

Taking his words in, the young witch went quiet for several seconds. In a hushed whisper, she looked up at him, her eyes were very big. "What's... what's going to happen? You know, don't you? You can s-see..."

Dave's head fell back as he groaned loudly in frustration. He had been expecting that question. People _always_ asked that question. "You know I can't tell you that."

"Why ever not?! You're my friend! _Harry's_ my friend! It's only fair-"

Dave interrupted her angrily, "Because people can't know what's gonna happen or what they're gonna do before they do it! That's how timelines get doomed. Your timeline right now is straight as a fucking arrow, no deviations. And it's gonna stay that way! I ain't gonna be responsible for gettin' you and everyone you love killed or worse! Cuz there _are_ things that are far worse than death, Hermione. You remember I died, like, a million times, right. Did'ya think I did that shit for fun?! Did'ya think I took some kind of sick pleasure from watchin' my friends die _horribly_ over and over and over again all the while trying to fix what got fucked up?! Do'ya wanna make me watch _you_ die over and over? Is that what you want? I'll fucking do it, but don't think I'm playin' when I say that I don't _want_ to." He stopped when he saw her face pale. She finally got it, though he was still fuming that it had to be explained. He had thought she was smarter than that. With a shaky exhalation, he muttered, "and that's all there is to say about it."

Her tears began in earnest again, face crumpling as she tried to stutter out an apology. ' _Why did I have to ruin everything_?' she thought morosely. Still agitated, Dave ran his hands through his hair. Blowing out air like some god damn cartoon storm cloud, he whispered a single, "fuck," and pulled her into a very stiff embrace. She resisted at first, but eventually melted into it, sobbing loudly as she clutched the back of his coat like a lifeline. He looked over at Roxy, who was just as hysterical. Her hands covered her mouth, stifling her sobs, but her apocalyptically smeared makeup told the truth of the matter. He beckoned her forward, relenting to doing more time in friend jail.

They eventually broke away; all of them feeling wrung out and tired in their own separate ways. Hermione in particular felt as if something in her had simultaneously been ripped out and healed again. Because the thought of losing these new friends was horrible, but to realize that they really did have her back, just as they'd always been telling her, was a dear comfort. Before leaving, Roxy quickly fixed her makeup as best she could, despite Dave's endless complaining about it. She also summoned a pair of Gryffindor robes from between her hands and badgered him into wearing them. When they were ready, they walked her back to Gryffindor Tower as usual.

It was Roxy who hugged her first, pressing a kiss to her cheek that left a dark magenta smudge on it. "Gonna miss you heaps, kid."

"Me too," Hermione affirmed, unable to keep sorrow from her voice. She turned to Dave and gave him a very watery smile, holding out her first slowly. Pressing her lips together, she gazed up at him expectantly.

His smiles previous to this had always been very small, almost imperceptible. But this time, he broke out a huge shit eating grin. She was delighted to find out that he had dimples. He laughed; it was a deep, hearty sound. "Fuck, dawg. That's my time buddy, all grown and handing out fist bunps like they're candy," he said, nearly glowing with happiness as he returned her fist bump. He then gave her a rough one armed hug and then ruffled her hair fondly. She waved him off half-heartedly, her smile less watery and more genuine in its joy.

They stepped away like parents on the first day of kindergarten, giving over their child into the care of strangers.

"See ya Sunday?" Roxy asked, as if they hadn't just made the plans minutes ago.

"Sunday," Hermione confirmed, nodding her head before turning and running up the stairs.

She stopped at the portrait of the Fat Lady, turning briefly to give them both a little wave before giving the password and disappearing behind the door as it slowly swung open and then closed again. There was a pregnant pause as they watched the spot where she'd just been. Roxy's lip trembled a little. Dave gave her arm a reassuring pat.

Neither of them had seen the dark haired young man with bottle green eyes who'd just witnessed everything they thought was secret. He hadn't been able to hear much of what little they'd said, only that they were doing something on Sunday. This young man didn't claim to know everyone in Gryffindor, especially older students. But he didn't recognize these two people, even though they wore Gryffindor's colors. He reckoned he would have remembered them, considering the pale blond color of their hair. It'd be hard to miss. Stepping out of the shadows, he eyed them warily. Who were they? Why were they with Hermione? He didn't like it, something wasn't right.

Harry Potter inhaled to say something, what it might have been no one would know, because as soon as he did the young woman had spotted him - bright pink eyes widening in shock. She tugged gently on her companion's robes and pointed at where Harry stood. The young man looked at him but did not react with the same amount of surprise as his fellow. His eyebrows rose above the aviators he wore, lips turning down into a small frown. Wordlessly, he shrugged and turned back to the girl, jerking his head in the direction of a corridor to their immediate left, away from Harry. She nodded back, entwining her arm in his as they lazily strolled away. Before he lost sight of her, the woman blew him a kiss and then winked at him.

He was stunned by the clear dismissal, standing motionless for a beat before barreling forward towards their retreating footsteps. But when he got to the corridor where they by all rights should be, they were gone. It was empty. Eyes wide and breathing heavily, he stood there for several minutes trying to comprehend what was not there.

Sunday. They were meeting her Sunday. He promised himself that he would find out what was going on and what Hermione may have unwittingly gotten herself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled with the Boss Hogg joke in this one. Mostly because I'm not sure how many kids Dave's actual age know about Dukes of Hazard, which was popular in the early 80s and not so much now. I justified it by having a personal headcanon that Dirk's Bro was ironically into the show, thus giving Dave secondhand knowledge of certain facts without really knowing all that much at all about it. (to be fair, his joke is about all I know.) It also stems from a real life event when I realized my brother didn't know who Bob Denver, aka Gilligan from Gilligan's Island, was. He kept making jokes about him and once I made one back referencing Gilligan's Island. His face went blank before telling me in perfect monotone that he had no idea who Bob Denver was, he just knew he was an actor and that the name was funny. So, it's just obscure jokes all around. Sorry/not sorry.


	5. Act 1: Green Ghost

Hermione woke very early Sunday morning. She wasn't sure what they might be doing; neither Roxy nor Dave had given her a clue. Assuming they'd be going outside at some point, she dressed warmly, though she did pick her favorite moss green jumper which wasn't exactly as cozy as it was fashionable. But Roxy had said that it brought out the little green flecks in her eyes. She braided her hair into a messy plait; somehow making it look intentional as opposed to what it was - _a mistake_ \- because she had to do all this in the privacy of her four-poster with the curtains drawn. It also didn't help that she was very nervous.

This would be the last time she'd see her friends in a very long time. It also didn't help that there would be special guests, which Hermione took to mean that she'd finally be meeting some of the people she'd only ever heard about second hand. She wanted so badly to make a good impression. If Dave were here, he would have told her that she didn't need to be worried. All their friends were "super chill" or at least most of them were, according to him. But having often made very bad first impressions, Hermione was determined to, for once, not make a fool of herself.

As she was tying her boots one of her roommates stirred in the bed just across from her own. The curtains parted and Parvati's head swam out of the gloom. Blinking owlishly, she stared at Hermione as if she'd never seen her before in her life.

"H'mione?" asked Parvati blearily, her eyes half closed. "Izzat you?"

Shoving her left foot into her boot, she looked up and smiled kindly. "Yes, go back to sleep."

Parvati sat up a little, leaning forward on her arm. "Why're you up so early? It's Sunday."

"Going for a walk," lied Hermione, though she supposed it wasn't entirely untrue.

Her roommate's face scrunched up in confusion. "Wha time izzit?"

"Eight-thirty," Hermione replied quietly.

Parvati head cocked curiously as if she were working out a particularly difficult equation. She gave Hermione a look of utter exasperation. "You're going on a walk at half eight in the morning... on a Sunday?"

"Yes, I am," replied Hermione, a little laugh in her voice as she firmly knotted the laces of both boots. "Walking is good for you."

"You're mental," Parvati commented with a small smile. She then shuttered her drapes and went back to bed.

As Hermione opened the door that led to the common room, she heard a muffled, "have a nice walk," come from the direction of Parvati's bed. She whispered a thank you and left the room happily, her heart weighted a bit but still light. Again she had expected one of her roommates to be her biggest obstacle and again she was wrong. For as she entered the common room, she was greeted with a very unwanted sight - Harry was there, reclining on a squashy armchair near the door. Some good luck prevailed, though. He was asleep quite soundly with one hand curled under his chin, glasses askew. She knew he was a light sleeper, but she felt as if sneaking by him wouldn't be that much of a chore.

How wrong she was.

Inhaling slowly, she turned to close the door, grimacing when it let out a slow squeak. She stopped abruptly, glancing over her shoulder. _Still asleep_. Heart thundering in her chest, she closed it more slowly. She glanced back again, he'd snorted a bit and then went quiet - still asleep. Letting out a shaky sigh as the lock clicked close, she pressed her forehead and hands against the smooth wood of the door. Just as she turned around, happy that she'd been so successful thus far, she saw movement from the corner of her eye. Turning around sharply, she noticed that he'd sat up, wiping his eyes before replacing his glasses. Both of them froze, staring at each other, feeling that there was more separating them than a small room. It felt more like a thousand miles.

Summoning her Gryffindor courage, she took a very deep breath and marched forward, studiously averting her eyes as if she didn't even notice he was there. As evidence of this, she fervently pretended she didn't notice the way he scowled at her. She refused to be upset by him or Ron. Not today, at least. Head held high, she walked past him. She heard a scuffling sound just then and all of a sudden he was standing in front of her, blocking her way. Hermione started, surprised for only a moment before her brows furrowed. She tried to side step him, but he blocked her. Frustrated, she tried again and again he blocked her.

"Could you please move, I'd like to get by, if you don't mind," she demanded, clearly aggravated.

She could see him thinking, his eyes darting back and forth wildly. "I... I needed to talk to you."

Eyes narrowed, Hermione stepped back as she crossed her arms very slowly. " _Did_ you? Whatever for?" He licked his lips, eyes darting again as he tried to come up with something, anything to tell her. She lifted an eyebrow imperiously. "Well, get on with it. I haven't got all day, you know."

"I saw you," he blurted out, wincing as whatever he intended to say hadn't come to him in time.

Rolling her eyes, she sighed. "Good for you. Is that all?"

"Yes - I mean, no! I mean," he stammered, closing his eyes for a second to collect himself. "A few nights ago when I was coming back, I saw you on the stairs. It's just..." Harry ran his hand through his hair, unable to figure out a way to ask her about what he saw; the words didn't want to come.

"You want to know if I was on the stairs? Yes, I was. I have been on the stairs several times during our stay here and will likely be on the stairs several more times. Is there anything else?" She enunciated that last question with a slow, irritated tone.

"I saw you with two people. Two people wearing Gryffindor robes that I didn't recognize!" She opened her mouth and he knew what her objection would be. "I know what you're going to say, but I would have noticed them... their hair, you see. Who are they?"

All the blood left her face, it took everything in her not to fall apart right then and there. She knew he saw how she reacted. But there was no way he'd wrest the truth from her. Instead, she used her own indignation as her sole ally. "Were you spying on me?"

"That doesn't matter!" he shot back, taking a single step closer to her.

"Yes, it actually does," she snarled dangerously, stepping right up to him so that they were almost nose to nose. "Who I associate with and who I choose to spend my time with, regardless of whether or not _you_ recognize them, is none of your business, Harry Potter. Now let me pass."

"No," he growled, bright green eyes alight with fury. _Why wouldn't she listen to reason?_ "You're meeting them today and I want to know who they are and why they're here. I don't care what you say, they're not Hogwarts students - I have a right to know who they _really_ are."

On the outside, she somehow managed to maintain a cool exterior but on the inside she was panicking. He had seen them? How? She could only conclude it was because Roxy had not known he was there. If she'd thought the corridor was deserted, she wouldn't use her power, allowing Harry to see them. His request was reasonable, under the circumstances. But she didn't have time to explain any of it. Moreover, she didn't have the inclination right now.

Eyes flashing, she fumed, "So let me get this straight. _You_ spy on _me_. Overhear a private conversation with _my_ friends, because I do happen to have them outside of you, by the way... and then you have the gall to demand explanations from me simply because YOU don't recognize them? Did I cover all your major points? Or is there more evidence you'd like to add?!"

Put that way, Harry's concerns did seem very small. He cast around for something, anything to prove his point - to make her see that there was something very wrong going on. "They... they could be working for Sirius Black!"

The statement hung in the air like a lead balloon. Hermione's eyes widened and she stepped away from Harry, looking at him as if seeing him truly for the first time. She let out a harsh, ugly laugh. In fact, she couldn't stop laughing, until real tears formed at the corners of her eyes. Harry did not see the humor in the situation.

"I hardly think that's funny."

Wiping her eyes, she shook her head. "No, it really is. It's _very_ funny, actually."

"What do you mean by that?!" He got the sense that she wasn't necessarily talking about their current conversation.

"Oh, figure it out yourself, Harry," replied Hermione tiredly, as she pushed past him, ramming her shoulder into his as hard as she could.

Never in her whole life had she been so furious. She stormed out of Gryffindor Tower, wrenching the door open and violently slamming it shut, ignoring the portrait's indignant objections at being handled so roughly. There was a small, mean part of her that hoped he followed. Because she had thought up several more things to say to him on the way to the Astronomy Tower, not to mention the great urge to sock him right in his stupid, thoughtless face.

"How dare he," she hissed angrily as she took the stairs two at a time. "Of all the things he could have said... working for Sirius Black, honestly... he has a lot of nerve!"

"Who has the nerve to say what?" asked a cheery voice.

Shaking herself, she realized that she had reached the Astronomy Tower - only it was completely deserted as it looked. She twirled around, swiveling her head trying to find where the voice came from. The voice kept giving her "helpful" hints, hollering warmer or colder as she stumbled around the tower. Was she going mad or was it a particularly mischievous ghost? She must have said it out loud, because the voice laughed, it was a very airy sound.

A wind whipped through the tower suddenly, it was fierce and localized to the area where Hermione stood. It was so strong that she stumbled back a few paces, protecting her face with her arms. The wind died down as quickly as it came. Hermione opened her eyes cautiously to find a young man standing just in front of her. He was very tall (taller than Dave, in fact) and lanky - he was 50% limbs by volume. His hair was dark and his eyes were the brightest electric blue she'd ever seen. The fact that he wore glasses and his dark hair was very messy sent a sharp pain through her. He reminded her very much of Harry, except for the very large, goofy smile on his face. Harry had never been so carefree.

"You look like you saw a ghost," he said, chuckling like he'd told a joke.

"Oh, well, I..." she stammered. The American forthrightness was disconcerting.

"John Egbert," he offered, holding out his hand which she shook. "You must be Hermione, right? It's really nice to meet you. Dave and Roxy have told me a lot about you. Don't worry, it's all good stuff. I'm kinda surprised to be honest, he's my best friend but Dave can be a real douche sometimes. Eh, I mean, we all can be on occasion, I guess. But he did have a lot of nice raps to say about you and all the stuff you guys got up to. And by nice raps I mean the stuff he was rapping about was nice, not that the raps themselves were nice. They were really terrible. Don't tell him I said that though."

It was still odd to her how quickly Americans became familiar with people they hardly knew. She had thought she'd gotten used to it, having spent so much time with Dave and Roxy. But they were positively terse compared to John, who exuded enthusiasm and babbled endlessly about whatever came into his head.

"I'm sorry but where are Dave and Roxy?" asked Hermione timidly. They hadn't told her they'd be meeting one of their friends so immediately. "I wasn't expecting-"

"Oh, they got their hands full setting stuff up. Plus, they really suck at transportation, if you haven't noticed. My way isn't as dangerous and it won't make you hurl," he said, with another earsplitting grin. "So, you ready?"

Hermione nodded, clutching her book bag close. "So, um, if I might ask... where are we going exactly?"

He tilted his head, vibrant blue eyes sparkling with mirth. "Ah-ah. It's a surprise. Soooo, shall we?" he asked, bowing deeply. With a flourish, he held out his hand. "Mademoiselle."

She took his hand hesitantly, not quite sure how she felt about him. For his part, he was all smiles as he carefully tucked her hand into the crook of his arm in true gentlemanly fashion. Bouncing on his feet, he glanced at her, giving her a little wink. One moment she was standing on the Astronomy Tower, the next she was standing in dim cloisters in an abandoned monastery. It was just that easy. Far in the distance, Hermione could just barely see Hogwarts as a misty silhouette. The awe she felt must have been visible on her face, because John gave her a little nudge.

"So, how was your first flight on Air Egbert?"

"Very good," she complimented with a small relieved smile. "I particularly enjoyed the inflight service."

"At Air Egbert, we aim to please," he replied cheekily. "C'mon, we got a room set up this way."

They walked down the ruined corridor, hoping over bits of masonry that had crumbled due to neglect. It was very quiet, sound muffled by the thick layers of snow covering everything. An unseen bird warbled disconsolately. She couldn't tell where it came from. Her new companion was quiet as well, which was quite unexpected. Instead, he looked around curiously, his lips tipped up in his own private amusement.

On the east side of the cloisters was a doorway that led to what had been the abbot's residence when the monastery had been functional. A pair of carpets had been hung over the doorway, to keep out the cold. They stopped in front of it. Hermione had no idea why they didn't just go inside. John let go of her hand and stepped forward.

"Ready to make an entrance?" asked John, a dangerous glint of mischief in his eyes. He flicked his arms out like a magician about to perform a trick. Pushing his hands forward, a great gust of wind blew the heavy carpets apart. He strolled into the maelstrom, seemingly impervious to it. Inside, Hermione could hear muttered oaths and a good deal of swearing. She scuttled after him, amazed that she too seemed immune to the wind's power, as if she'd stepped directly into the eye of a storm.

"THE HEIR OF BREATH HAS ARRIVED," John shouted, the wind quieting at his command as he held up his hands like a circus ringmaster. "And he's brought our very special guest."

There was a chorus of complaints.

"God damn it, Egbert!"

"JOOOOOHN! WHYYYYYYYYEEEE?!"

"AH FIDDLESTICKS!"

The last was said by a plump girl, who'd dropped the spoon she'd been using to stir something on the carpet covering the cold cobblestone floor. She wore bright red glasses and had messy, flyaway hair like John. Her eyes were a clear light blue, contrasting beautifully with her dark skin. Picking up her spoon, she gazed at it critically, a frown marring her pretty face. She scowled at John for a moment before her expression softened. Even Dave and Roxy, who'd given him very dirty looks shrugged and proceeded to pick things up without blinking. It was as if this particular scenario had played out many, many times and they were all used to it by now.

"Get over here and clean all this up, buster. You're taking over dish washing duty now, since you have so much time to fart around," the girl commanded in a voice that would not be denied, brandishing the spoon at him menacingly.

He laughed sheepishly, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck as he complied, taking the spoon gingerly from her hand. The girl watched him carefully to make sure there were no further shenanigans, hand on her hip. She then regarded Hermione with a sweet smile, walking forward with confident but graceful steps. Bowl clutched in her left hand, she tipped her head curiously while rolling back and forth on her heels.

"Sorry about that. Jane Crocker. Very pleased to meet you," she said, bobbing her head and stooping into a little half curtsy. Touching Hermione's arm, she guided her over to plush chair placed in front of a small brazier that gave out a regular amount of comfortable heat. "Why don't you have a seat while we get everything ready?"

Pulling her book bag over her head and placing it next to a chair, she didn't sit down. "Oh, but is there anything I can help with?"

Jane looked almost offended as she practically pushed Hermione into the chair. "Nonsense. Guests don't help! You sit down. Do you like hot chocolate or would you prefer tea?"

"Tea please?" she asked, feeling very out of sorts as she sat there, watching everyone else bustle around busily.

Turning to her blond friend, Jane asked, "Roxy, would you mind?"

Roxy's head popped up, looking over at Hermione with a grin. "D'ya like Earl Grey or chamomile? Sorry I ain't got much variety. Only thing I ever seem to be able to appearify is Earl Grey or chamomile when peeps ask for tea. It's like a weird mental block or somethin'."

Nonplussed, Hermione replied, "Chamomile will be fine."

Roxy rubbed her hands together, swiftly drawing them apart in a jerking motion. From between her outstretched hands a box of chamomile tea appeared with a loud pop. She handed the box to Jane who took it and began to prepare the tea, bumping John away from the sink with a hip so she could fill the pot. Minutes later a warm cup of tea was handed to her by Jane, who'd also set a plate of neatly made scones with little jars of marmalade on the table next to her chair. Still feeling guilty for just sitting there, she thanked her softly before carefully sipping the tea.

"Did you need any milk or sugar? Honey?"

"No, this is fine."

Jane nodded and then skipped back to their makeshift kitchen. Hermione sighed, taking another sip. Her eyes skimmed the room. The arm chairs and the brazier were nearest the entrance at the far right of the room. There were several colorful carpets hug over the walls, keeping out the cold. Christmas lights were strung all around, plugged into small green cubes which apparently supplied the power to everything in the room, including a full kitchen stove which was parked in the far left corner. Next to the stove was a full sink, which somehow worked despite clearly not being attached to any kind of plumbing. John was happily doing dishes, bopping back and forth as he scrubbed while Jane danced lightly around him as she cooked. A good distance from this "kitchen" was a picnic table which Roxy was carefully covering with a checkered cloth. Dave waited behind her with an armful of eating utensils wrapped in bright yellow napkins.

With the soft glow of the Christmas lights and the warm smell of cooking food, it was a cozy, comfortable space. Being so near the brazier, she opened her jacket a bit with one hand, pressing her back into the armchair. She'd helped herself to a few of Jane's scones, which were delicious. Having skipped breakfast, she hadn't realized how hungry she'd been. Watching the fire crackle inside its little cage, Hermione found herself becoming a bit drowsy. She wasn't sure how long she'd sat there watching the dancing flames. It was long enough, apparently, that she'd fallen asleep for several hours. Someone gently prodded her shoulder; she looked up dreamily into a pair of clear blue eyes.

"Sorry to disturb you, but lunch is ready," Jane said sweetly, a lovely little smile gracing her face.

The spread was simple American cooking, nothing fancy but very hearty. There was a classic beef stew, roasted red potatoes, asparagus in some kind of butter and garlic sauce, and fluffy butterhorns, a kind of buttery roll that was a Crocker family recipe. Everything was delicious, but the thing that really made the meal was the comradery. She had worried a bit that with more people she'd be made to feel, however accidentally, as an outsider. But she was happy, so very happy that it turned out not to be the case. Dave and Roxy were amusing as usual, enhanced by John's exuberance and they were all kept from getting out of control by Jane's gentle hand. It was a warm happy feeling eating with these people. Something she hadn't felt in a long while.

Jane shooed them away from the table as she cleared it. She wouldn't accept any help at all and insisted they all sit down for a bit. So everyone made their way to the chairs arranged around the brazier and sat, listening to the hiss and pop of the fire and the low sound of Jane humming a tune softly as she puttered away in the kitchen. Hermione sat down where she'd been previously. Roxy flopped down in a chair to her right and Dave sat next to her. John took the seat near Dave, his long legs stretching out towards the warmth of the fire.

Dave gazed at her, fire reflecting in his aviators which he'd pushed on top of his head. "How'd we do?"

Hermione averted her eyes and laughed. "Everything's been lovely, thank you."

"Is that Brit speak for it's been the rad-est fucking shindig ever OR shit sucked but I'm way too British to say so... help me out here."

She was quiet a moment before smiling. "Well, to translate from British English to American, I do believe it's been fucking awesome, as you would say."

Roxy and Dave immediately broke up, laughing hard enough that they began to sputter and cough. John just shook his head, intoning forlornly, "looks like we've corrupted another one. So sad when they go grimdark like that."

This prompted more laughter. They moved on to other topics that were mostly lighthearted fair. The more lighthearted fair in question at the moment was an entire five minute argument between Dave and John about some terrible movie Hermione had never heard of. It had all started when the boys had decided to list their top five movies of 1993 and quickly devolved into loud but amusing bickering.

Dave nearly slid off his chair in frustration as he argued. "Omigod, fucking unbelievable! I can't believe you actually picked the third fucking Teenage Mutant Ninja Shitbags sequel over fucking Jurassic Park for favorite movie of 1993. At that point you might as well flip a coin and pick whatever shitty movie Nic Cage was in that year, it'd at least make more sense because I know you love that flaming bag of cock! What is wrong with you?!"

"Nothing, it's just a really great movie. Like, they go back in time and become samurai. There's a really funny scene where they try and ride horses. It's objectively awesome. Also, Corey Feldman's performance has to be the best of his career," replied John earnestly; he seemed entirely at ease as if they weren't having a half shouted argument about movies. "I would have picked 'Weekend at Bernie's II' but it feels a little like the filmmakers sold out. Plus it's Jake's favorite and I wouldn't feel good about stealing his pick."

"If I thought that you two knuckleheads liked that movie ironically, I could respect that. But I know you both fucking love it, no ironies involved whatsoever. Feel like I failed as a friend and a human being."

Looking at her phone which had a long list of movies released that year, Roxy interrupted them. "You guys are clearly missing the real point of this. Which is - what's the best ninja themed movie of 1993 and the clear winner of _that_ contest would be 'Surf Ninjas', hands down. I mean, their tagline is 'Surf's up! Time to Save the World!' You can't beat that shit."

She held out her phone so they could all see the poster in all of its garish glory with its tagline emblazoned proudly in bold black ink.

"That looks perfectly awful," Hermione scoffed, her nose scrunching up in disgust as she gazed at the perfectly terrible poster art. "I don't even want to imagine who'd pay money to see it."

"I know, right?!" Roxy snorted, turning away so she could show the boys.

"Ahahaha! Jesus Christ," Dave exclaimed, leaning forward to see it. "Look at those assholes. Fuck, what a completely ignominious way to end your career."

"Yikes," John grimaced. "That looks like the worst piece of shit ever. I can't condone Rob Schneider's antics."

"Welp, I'm glad you at least have a line you won't cross. And more importantly that the line is Rob Schneider," commended Dave, cracking his knuckles softly as he gazed at the fire.

John and Dave then proceeded to continue the previous argument, apparently weighing in on who would win in a grudge match: mutant ninja turtles or velociraptors. It was incredibly hard to tell who was on what side of the argument as it kept evolving with sillier and sillier scenarios. Hermione sat quietly listening to them with puzzled bemusement. Roxy's eyebrows rose into her hairline, turning away from the conversation with a little head shake.

"Sorry you had to witness that. We're all inured to the almost daily arguments about John's terrible taste in entertainment, but you rode out your first time pretty good. S'ppose it helps you don't got no idea what they're talking about," Roxy mused with a little sigh. "Wish ta god I didn't."

"It's oddly comforting, actually," commented Hermione, shrugging. "Really no different than when everyone starts going on and on about Quidditch." For a moment she thought back to a week ago, when two seventh year Ravenclaws had nearly come to blows during lunchtime due to a difference of opinion over which of their teams was likely to win the next league match. She shivered. "It was funnier than the arguments I'm used to, at the very least."

"Yeah, glad I don't gotta deal with that shit. All our boys ain't that fond of the sports, unless it's making hilariously inaccurate references to sports for shits and giggles. Hey, how'd you do on that Arithmancy paper I helped you with, by the way?"

"Very good, actually. She mentioned the elegance of the solution particularly," she said with a tiny little grin.

Roxy had never been one to gloat when she was right and instead beamed at Hermione, nearly vibrating with excitement. "HOT DAMN! Do you have it with you? Can I see it?"

Digging into her book bag, Hermione retrieved it and handed it over. Roxy took and unrolled it carefully, her eyes immediately scanning the bottom. Her brows were furrowed at first but gradually softened as a huge smile appeared on her face.

Affecting a truly terrible British accent, she recited, "Most students are inclined to reach for a far more complicated solution to this particular problem, though it requires arguably a far simpler solution. It is precisely why I have assigned it over the years. The heart of Arithmancy is more than simply memorizing equations; it is the realization that numbers are living things. In my experience, it has been the rare student who can assess the sheer elegance of the simple solution. You are that rare student." She paused, her pink eyes bright with tears. "I'm so fucking proud of you."

Hopping out of her chair, she gave Hermione a big bear hug. She handed Hermione back her parchment, wiping her tears away with her hands - her smile still huge. Then she asked about this week's homework, insisting on looking it over as well. Hermione surrendered it to her, glowing with pride on the inside as Roxy poured over that week's assignment. Shortly thereafter, Jane came to sit down, wiping her hands on her apron and looking a bit exhausted.

"Well, the cake's out of the oven. I'll have to let it cool a bit before I can put icing on it," she said, more to herself than anyone else.

Dave and John's argument died down eventually. John stared sleepily at the fire, rubbing his eyes under his glasses as he yawned widely. Dave had put in an earbud and was fiddling with something on his phone, the vague sound of music drifting up from the speaker lying in his lap. Roxy had fully engaged herself in Hermione's homework. She'd managed to appropriate the young witch's bookbag and dug out her Arithmancy book which was balanced on one knee, parchment draped over the other. Somehow she'd managed to get a regular muggle notebook and a pen. She was furiously writing, her eyes sliding from the book to the parchment to the notebook at regular intervals. Jane had awkwardly taken off her apron without getting up, gazing at her friends and then the fire with a strange kind of restlessness.

"I was thinking of taking a walk," she announced, gauging the group for a reaction. "Does anyone want to join me?"

They all looked up slowly. Dave was first to answer.

"This Texas boy ain't going out in that frozen tundra 'less this place is on fire. Pass."

John yawned again, nestling deeper into his chair. "Mebbe later," he replied drowsily.

Roxy waved her hand absently. "Yeah, you do that."

Jane's expression went flat with frustration. All the same, she stood up and began to put on her winter clothes. It wouldn't be the first time she'd taken a walk alone and she really needed to stretch her legs. She hadn't bothered to ask their guest. Frankly, she felt it'd be presumptuous of her to press her into doing something she might not want to with someone who was a virtual stranger, even though she would have liked the company. She was surprised to hear the young witch stand and say softly, "I'd love to go, if you don't mind..."

"Oh, that'll be perfect! Shall we?" Securing her beret on her head, she turned and grinned.


	6. Act 1: Intermission

All bundled up, they opened the carpets covering the entryway and exited to the outside. They both gasped a little as the difference in temperature was sharp enough to steal their breath away. Inside the old abbot's residence was warm, but not so warm that one could take off all their winter clothing. There was still a bit of a chill. But it was obvious that it was still quite a bit warmer than it was outside. Shivering a little, Jane set off, giving a curt nod to Hermione to indicate where they'd be going.

For someone so short Jane Crocker walked awfully fast. That was the first observation Hermione made. She had been excited that she'd finally found someone shorter than herself, thinking that she'd finally have the benefit of a longer stride length. No more hustling after two long legged boys, no sir. She'd finally be able to walk with someone without have to practically run alongside them. How foolish she'd been.

Just like Roxy, Jane was seemingly filled with endless energy, though it wasn't the restless energy her blonde friend exuded. It was more focused, bound to the earth. Jane had a goal in mind for today's excursion; that much was sure. And it wasn't the spur of the moment goals Hermione had gotten used to - Roxy and Dave's "plans" were less like plans and more like happy accidents. She had a feeling that Jane had planned most of this little shindig, not that she would ever say so.

Her other observation was that while Jane was very friendly, she wasn't quite as chatty as her other friends. She was quite happy to walk quietly with Hermione, taking noticeably shorter strides so they could match gait better. All the while she silently took in the sights, her clear blue eyes wandering over the ruins that had at one time been a vibrant place of worship. She gave Hermione an encouraging smile as they walked.

"You know, whenever I go to a place, I always like to look it up beforehand," Jane commented idly, breaking the comfortable silence between them. "It makes it easier to connect when you visit, I think. You get an idea of the people who lived there and what they did. What it was like to live and breathe in a place in times gone past."

Hermione was reminded of when she'd first learned she was a witch - how she'd latched onto 'Hogwarts: A History' and read the entire book in almost one night. She smiled wistfully. "I agree. It makes everything more real."

"When we first came here, I tried to find out a bit about this place. Went to that little town down the way, Dumfries, I think it was called. We went right to their parish records office looking for a monastery. Imagine my surprise when not only didn't we find any records but when we asked the very polite lady in the office about them, she looked at us like we'd grown two heads," Jane said with a hearty little laugh. "Told us straight out that there wasn't a monastery in these parts and that there never had been. I'm sure she thought we were just a pair of crazy Americans, but it was a real bother, to be honest."

Hermione frowned, puzzling it over. "Really, no records at all?"

"Uh-huh. Even did an... um... well, it's this thing. Ugh. An internet search... you do-" Jane stammered, gesturing awkwardly.

"Yes, I do know what it is. My dad hasn't stopped talking about how it's going to change everything all last summer," Hermione murmured in amusement.

"Okay, well, we did one and got bupkis. We even looked up a list of defunct monasteries in Scotland at the tourist bureau... nothing at all. It was like this place didn't even exist."

Hermione looked at the distant shadow that was Hogwarts. "Do... do you think it's because Hogwarts is so close? That perhaps some of the charms and enchantments have made this place..."

"Invisible to normal human eyes?" Jane finished Hermione's sentence with a sardonic little smile. "Yeah, we considered that. Roxy and I even thought about going to that wizarding village near here. But then we realized that'd be a bust in more ways than one."

The young witch gave her a strange look of befuddlement. "Well, it seems to me that doing so would be the next logical step. I would have done it."

"You clearly haven't read the most recent issue of the Dumfries Standard," Jane said, pursing her lips as she pulled out the neatly folded front page of a newspaper. "Roxy... well, she stole it when we went into town last week." Taking the proffered paper, Hermione quickly read it, eyebrows rising in astonishment.

"Black's been sighted in that muggle village nearby?"

"Indeed," Jane confirmed with a heavy sigh. "We're all aware your Ministry is looking for him. So, Rox and I figured that two school age American girls wandering around asking questions about a monastery suspiciously near a wizarding school that no one outside of Britain should know about - well, that's pretty ding dang suspicious. Let's not forget, neither of us are wizards and wouldn't be able to hand over wands if asked. I assume they ask or would ask?" She titled her head to the side thoughtfully before shrugging. "Anyway, it all just added up to being one huge bad idea, so we nixed it."

"That's such a shame. It would have been nice to know more about this place," said Hermione, a bit crestfallen as she gazed over the ruins.

"O-HO! You think this gutsy gumshoe would throw in the towel so easily!? I am as tenacious as Monsieur Poirot. No mystery will ever get the better of me," Jane declared with a little hop in her step.

Hermione laughed brightly. "Is that so? I'm intrigued now; do tell me how you solved it, Madame Crocker."

"Roxy and I kinda, sorta, most definitely broke into Hogwart's library," Jane admitted sheepishly. "We started in the history section, obviously. We found a whole lot of nothing. All the editions were about fifty years old or less which I thought was rather surprising, all things considered."

"Why would that be surprising? A library ought to have the most current editions of all of its books, especially ones dealing in history."

"True, but a library as old as Hogwarts certainly wouldn't get rid of them entirely - like for instance, first prints or really rare editions. Look at the number of Shakespeare folios there are or the different editions of the Bible. If they have a special collections area in a non-magic library, it'd stand to reason that Hogwarts would be no different, despite being distinctly magical," Jane explained, gesticulating animatedly. "Not JUST a restricted section, but one specifically for rare books."

"You're right," Hermione breathed quietly. "You're brilliant! I can't believe I didn't know about..." she marveled, pausing for a beat, "it should have been in Hogwarts: A History. How could I have overlooked it? I've read that book dozens of times and there was never any mention of a rare books collection."

"I have some theories," Jane began, giving her a little sideways glance. Hermione was on tenterhooks, gesturing impatiently at her blue eyed companion. "Well, the innocuous explanation is that those books aren't there for students but for academics and other professionals; adults, in other words. It makes a whole lot of sense that they wouldn't trust students with their rarest tomes. But considering what I found out about this place, there may be a more insidious reason for it as well."

Hermione went quiet, her mind working quickly. The only other reason to keep something like this a secret would be because there was information in some of those books that was in some way dangerous, but perhaps not dangerous in the usual way, information that might threaten the status quo. She said as much to Jane, who nodded at her appreciatively.

"It took us a bit," Jane said as she wrestled with something in her large, patchwork messenger bag. "But we found this." She pulled out a thick leather-bound tome titled 'An Unabridged History of the Magical World' by Adelbert Fletcher.

Taking the book, her lips quirked up in a half smile. It was somewhat amusing to her that she only seemed to attract friends who had a penchant for breaking rules. Opening the book, she noted the publishing date listed in Roman numerals, MDCCCLXII - 1862. Jane had helpfully left a bookmark, an old receipt, so that finding the right passage was easier. Carefully thumbing open the book, she flipped to the appropriate page.

There have been a number of experiments over the years in merging the muggle world with our own. Perhaps the saddest of these is Midwich Abbey, now nothing more than mouldering ruins. It was founded in 897 A.D. by a group of disgruntled muggleborns who believed, quite incorrectly, that natural born wizards used their magic far too frivolously. Some have suggested that it was the precursor to Hogwarts; a ridiculous notion at best and one that I have dismissed out of hand.

These were suspicious times, and the founders of this institution were as vulnerable as the common blood they came from. Unlike their muggle peers, they believed their magic was a gift from god, rather than a curse. Moreover, they believed it ought to be used to benefit all mankind, whether magical or not, to spread their word view and promote peace where there was none. Clinging to these primitive beliefs, they refrained from using any spell defensive or offensive that would make their share easier.

They did have some semblance of wizarding pride. Rather than eschew magic entirely, they believed it ought to serve a useful purpose, not an entirely unworthy goal to be sure. While living in strict austerity, they peddled potions and cures to both wizard and muggle alike. They believed quite firmly that both muggle and wizard were equal in the eyes of god, which is, of course, pure foolishness and was borne out by the abbey's ultimate fate.

It ought to be noted that they had lived thusly for centuries before inevitably being found out. Of course it was only a matter of time. In 1692 the Abbey was attacked and unceremoniously burned to the ground by their muggle neighbors in a fit of superstitious pique over a poor harvest and the frequent illnesses of the town's children, blaming the very remedies that cured them. It was one of the last wide spread efforts to bridge the gap between the muggle world and our own, a tragic end to a failed experiment.

It was this attack that gave greater weight to those in favour of the Statue of Secrecy and secured its easy passage...

Hermione had to read the pitifully miniscule passage over again such was her fury. She wasn't even sure what she was angrier about - the bigoted pureblood tone or the fact that something this important wasn't in 'A History of Magic' - they hadn't been taught this at all.

"How could... how could they hide this from us?" She exclaimed, huffing indignantly.

Jane bit her lip and then grimaced. "It gets worse." Hermione's eyes flashed asking silently how it could get any worse. "Follow me."

They walked together quickly, stopping by a door just off the west side of the cloister. It was a very small room with a row of bright windows. The walls were blackened in places and deeply scored in others, leaving little doubt that something terrible had indeed happened here. Hermione gazed piercingly at the walls, remembering what she'd just read.

Glancing over at Jane, she asked demandingly, "The book said it was burned." Jane's incredibly blue eyes widened as she nodded slowly. No one could look at Hermione when she was in her highest dudgeon and not be a bit intimidated. "This doesn't look like damage from a fire. Fire damage is more uniform, especially when it's purposefully set. These look like blasts... like spell damage."

"That was my assumption as well," Jane confirmed grimly, looking at the young witch with not a small amount of concern.

Hermione was absolutely shaking with rage. They had destroyed this place and murdered its inhabitants because the abbey was at odds with the message the Ministry wished to promote. They had always been told that secluding themselves from muggles had been the only choice. But that was a lie and the evidence was born out by the walls of the abbey. She flirted briefly with the thought of revealing the truth, but quickly realized that she'd either be dismissed as a lunatic or silenced as the monks had been. The wizarding world had been built on this lie and there were those who wouldn't be keen to give it up.

Watching Hermione quietly, Jane touched her arm gently, looking into eyes glassy with tears. "There's something else," she whispered quietly, a small smile teasing her lips. "Something really good."

She could not possibly believe anything found in this place could be good. Jane walked into the room, which made Hermione gasp. It somehow felt wrong to enter, as if they were disturbing the dead. Jane turned around quickly with her hands clasped in front of her, her face all blustery excitement.

"See, when John and I found this place... well, it took me a minute. But I figured out what it was. There were remnants of ink wells and a few desiccated feathers" She gave a momentary pause, hoping the young witch would guess correctly as she had before. But she remained stubbornly silent. Frowning a little she exclaimed, "It's a scriptorium - a place where they made illuminated manuscripts!"

"What does it matter what they did here?" Hermione replied, her eyes roving the walls sadly.

"It always matters! Places like this are important. Knowing what happened... history is speaking to us here. Don't you see it?"

"I don't see anything but..."

"UGH! Besides the markings!" Jane scowled, making an exasperated sound. "Maybe it's because I played the Game with all its stupid puzzles that I see them everywhere. Look!" She commanded, storming over to the far wall and jabbing a finger at it.

Nearly lost in all the damage the room had taken was a small ornamental sculpture that looked very out of place in such an austere room. Hermione finally entered, walking slowly towards Jane - boots echoing loudly with every step. It was a trefoil and inside it was a lamb surrounded by lilies. She met Jane's eyes, knowing they were thinking along the same lines. This sculpture had obviously Christian overtones; pureblooded wizards would never understand the significance and no doubt overlooked it as another muggleborn oddity. Biting her lip again, Jane carefully grasped the sculpture and turned it. There was a series of odd thuds and a scraping sound. The wall fell away to reveal a small alcove and inside that alcove was a book.

"I wasn't able to remove it," Jane admitted with a little head nod. "I think it's protected. But it was nice to solve a puzzle that didn't involve plonking reptile skulls onto weighted platforms..."

Hermione could tell that there were protective enchantments on it; they were so strong that the hair on the back of her neck tingled. She knew she shouldn't reach in but she did anyway. Her fingers closed over the book and pulled it forward. Nothing happened. It was as if it had been waiting for her and only her to take it. Both girls let out the breath they had been holding the entire time.

Nervously glancing over at Jane, Hermione opened the elaborate, gilded cover. Inside was a revelation. When she was very young, long before she'd gotten her Hogwarts letter, she had gone to Ireland with her family. Her father insisted on visiting Trinity College to see the Book of Kells - he had always had a great love of art and he wished to instill the same love in his only child. She was only seven, so some of it was lost on her. But one of the pages displayed a profusion of swirling whorls and tight Celtic knots and between them wandered all manner of animals and hidden human faces. Her father had bought an expensive reproduction of the book on their way out. She used to spend hours looking at the pages intently, her eyes drinking in every detail. Those images were at once terrifying and fascinating.

The wonder of those moments were brought back in an instant. But here the whorls turned gracefully, Celtic knots twining around themselves endlessly. The animals seemingly imprisoned by the design moved freely between them while flowers bloomed or wilted at their leisure. The human figures blinked languidly as they gestured with impossible reverence - their gold halos illuminating the page quite literally.

Hermione realized all at once what this was. This place had been founded by monks and nuns. It was true that wizards had no set religion, but the people who had made this place had - they were muggleborns who had somehow reconciled their faith with their natural born talents. There'd be no question that like regular muggle monasteries they would have made illuminated manuscripts. But they would never be content with static, fixed illustrations. In true wizard fashion, they had made them come alive in breathtaking fashion. It was frustrating that she couldn't read a bit of it as it was all in Latin.

"This was their life's work," she whispered tearfully. They knew what was going to happen and had without a doubt not raised a hand in their own defense. Instead, they had hid their one true treasure in hopes that someday it would be found.

There was a part of her that dearly wanted to take it. The book was evidence, after all. But what could one teenage girl do with this, really. If she took it, there was a good chance it'd be destroyed, either purposefully or on accident. She might revere the hard work that went into making this, but her clumsy roommates would not. This alcove had preserved the book, the ink looked as bright as they day it was put to the page. It had kept it from the ravages of time and the destructive impulses of those who felt this place represented something dangerous. She quickly replaced it, carefully using the hidden lever to close the wall.

"You're not taking it?"

Looking at Jane's astonished face, she shook her head. "It's safer here, for now."

Noticing the young witch's demeanor, Jane was suddenly filled with regret. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't have said anything. This was supposed to be a happy occasion but I was so wrapped up in sharing the... history of this dumb place that I didn't think about-"

Hermione looked at her sharply. "No, I'm glad you told me. This is something that everyone should know. I'm angry that the history of this place has been hidden so effectively. But I can't be mad that you showed me what you knew." She gave a tight little smile, giving Jane's arm a light squeeze. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Jane replied, patting Hermione's back companionably. "We probably should get back. I don't even wanna know what those three goofballs might be up to without a qualified adult watching their every move."

They exited the scriptorium and started the long walk back to the abbot's quarters.

Neither of them said a whole lot - there was far too much to think about. Hermione's mind was a thousand miles away, so she hardly noticed that Jane had stopped cold. She was staring out at the courtyard, her mouth wide open. It took a second for Hermione to realize why. Following Jane's line of sight, he own mouth dropped open in astonishment.

In the courtyard there was an unimaginably huge sphere made entirely of snow. At first, Hermione couldn't imagine how it'd been formed until she saw Jane look up. Floating happily in mid-air was John, an equally enormous ball of snow being formed just above him. He was somehow using air currents to suck the snow from all around to fashion what could be described as a terribly small snow planet.

Tearing her hat off her head and throwing it to the ground, Jane's face went puce as she roared, "OH FOR CRIMINEY'S SAKE!" She clumsily crawled over the balustrade and marched into the knee deep snow in the courtyard. "JOHN NATHANIEL EGBERT WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU DOING? I LEAVE YOU ALONE FOR TWENTY MINUTES AND THIS IS WHAT I COME BACK TO? GET DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!"

As she quickly knelt down to pick up the hat, Hermione was instantly reminded of Mrs. Weasley. She watched the display warily, absently clutching Jane's hat in her hands. Of all the powers she'd seen her new friends use, John's was the most terrifying and the fact that Jane was worried enough to shout that loudly was not a terribly good sign.

"Nah," came the distant reply. "I don't even have a middle name by the way."

"I JUST INVENTED ONE BECAUSE YOU MADE ME SO MAD TWO NAMES WEREN'T ENOUGH! " At this he laughed uproariously. This was unquestionably the wrong thing to do. "DON'T YOU DARE MAKE ME COME UP THERE AND GET YOU!" Jane shouted back, nearly hopping with the force of her fury. "WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING WITH THAT THING?!"

"Making a really huge ass snow man." This time his voice was a bit closer as he'd floated a few feet down, the snow planet moving gracefully with him.

"WHAT?! That doesn't even make any sense. It won't work," Jane reasoned, gesturing wildly. "You might defy physics but that doesn't mean the snow can."

"Jane, please. I know all about snowmen. I saw a documentary about how they make these huge sculptures made out of snow in Japan once. Don't worry. It's gonna be awesome," John explained patiently, waving his free hand at her dismissively.

Slapping a hand to her forehead, she wailed, "That's because they use water to freeze the snow to strength it, otherwise it loses cohesion!"

Sure enough, the other snow planet had begun to crumble on one side without John's windy power to hold it together. John ignored it. "This is totally gonna work. You'll see!"

Taking a steadying breath, Jane tried to argue, "No, John, they use blocks of snow that have been compacted tightly and they use water to freeze it. This snow is too loose; it'll just break apart and make a huge mess of everything."

"Haha! Nice try!" John laughed, floating up suddenly as he carefully guided his second snow planet onto the first.

"Ah, shit," Jane cursed, looking over at Hermione worriedly.

She ran, vaulting over the balustrade in one go. Grabbing hold of Hermione's hand, she whisked her into the air in an eye blink. Hermione barely even noticed they were floating above the courtyard. The sight of one snow planet colliding slowly with the other was too transfixing. The two snow spheres sat snugly for all of three seconds, before collapsing in a small avalanche. Once finished, it had completely covered up the area both Jane and Hermione had occupied seconds before.

"Wow, what a completely predictable outcome," Jane commented blandly as she carefully brought them back to earth. "It's almost as if someone told you it'd be a stupid idea."

"Huh, best laid plans I guess," John chortled, scratching the back of his head as he had not considered this particular possibility.

Once safely on the ground, Jane held out her messenger bag forcefully. "Hermione, dear, would you mind holding this for me."

It wasn't a question. Hermione took the bag meekly, looking worriedly at the dark look on Jane's face. John didn't seem to sense the danger. Kneeling down gracefully, Jane scooped up a handful of snow, balled it, and threw it in a single fluid movement with as much force as she could at John's face. This was also a possibility he hadn't counted on, but should have. The snowball struck him right on his cheek with terrifying velocity that literally knocked him off his feet. Suspended mid-air for a second, he made a soft "oof" sound before comically falling over into the snow. He lay spread-eagled on the ground, both his legs sticking straight up like flag poles.

Shooting him a dirty look, Jane dusted herself off calmly and straightened her clothes. "Let's get out of here before he gets his second wind. I'm in no mood for a prank war. I mean, I know I'd win, but I am NOT in the proper frame of mind for it."

Hermione did not argue with her.

Jane powered through the snow, even though in places it went up to her thighs. Hermione walked behind her, not struggling as badly thanks to Jane's trailblazing. As they trudged forward they could see both Dave and Roxy had hurried out to see what had happened. Roxy hand reached them first, looking over the apocalypse of snow with something between awe and confusion. Dave reached them second, surveying the devastation with raised eyebrows.

"What in the shit happened?" Roxy asked, stomping genially through the excess snow.

Dave looked back at her disbelievingly. "C'mon! This is clearly John's work. Big doofus is lying just over there with his feet stickin' out the ground."

Four sets of eyes gazed over to the area where John had last been seen. There was nothing left but the deep indent from his landing and unsettled snow. A volley of snowballs filled the air before anyone could properly register anything was amiss. Most of them went wild. Two hit the ground near Jane's feet. One hit the back of Hermione's leg rather pointlessly. Some hit the snow with a soft 'poff' that left little craters behind them. One hit Roxy right in the chest - cold, wet snow found its way between her scarf and skin. Holding her hands out, she let out a strangled scream, shaking her clothes out to try to relieve her discomfort. Another hit Dave square in the face. He stood there mutely as the snow slid slowly off his aviators that were hanging drunkenly off one ear. Taking them off slowly, he brushed the offending snow from them, and then his face and hair. With deliberate slowness, he put the glasses back on and glared at John murderously. Roxy wore a similarly dark expression on her face.

"You're a dead man, Egbert," Dave declared with deceptive calmness and then he leapt into the air spectacularly, disappearing in a whirl of clockwork motion.

A second afterwards, there were no less than ten Daves in the air. Each and every one of them hand a snowball in hand as they threw them at John in a chaotic barrage. John ducked and whirled like a dervish, waving his arms wildly to push the projectiles away with short bursts of wind. He wasn't entirely successful as many of the snowballs hit their mark. There were far too many Daves - all of them winding in and out in a coordinated dance through the timeline. John, realizing he was outnumbered, abruptly became the breeze, surrendering corporeal form temporarily.

The Daves in the air solidified to one singular Dave, whose feet hit the ground with a controlled skid. His hand flicked out and a long, elegant sword appeared in his grasp. Swinging the sword languidly, his entire body automatically assumed a defensive stance. His head tipped back and forth imperceptibly as he slowly circled around the courtyard; his movement was economical, precise as a Swiss timepiece.

Hermione knew without question that there was nothing real about this "battle". But she could also see that Dave had all the mannerisms of a practiced warrior and if this had been real... she shuddered.

She watched as his head suddenly snapped up, attention focused on the sky. John was there holding up another snow planet, though much, much smaller than the ones he'd originally made. He had what looked to be the world's most ridiculous sledgehammer in his hands. It was overlarge with a silly profusion of decoration on it and painted in the most hideously garish colors she'd ever seen. Lifting the hammer over his head, he struck the snow planet, sending it hurtling towards Dave at incredible speed.

The Knight of Time's knees bent before he shot forward to meet it, sword flashing in the dim winter light. He cut the snow planet down the middle. The two halves broke apart but before they could fall there was a blur of motion as he cut it into smaller pieces. Somehow he had grabbed some of the falling snow mid-air. Packing it into a ball, he hucked it at John who batted it away easily with a swing from his hammer.

They both hovered in the air for a few moments before throwing snowballs at each other in earnest. Whatever they'd been doing before it had clearly been only a prelude. With the feeling that they'd shown off enough they began to move faster, until they were moving so fast that her eyes had trouble perceiving it. It was all a blur of red and blue as snowballs whipped through the air at such speed that they had turned to glittering steam on impact.

Enraptured, she was so caught up in watching them that she didn't notice the tug on her sleeve. It wasn't until Jane shouted her name that she was able to drag her eyes away from the sky and the rapid fire snowball fight happening above her.

"We should go," Jane said and her tone was very firm. "Before they remember we're here."

"But-"

"Neither of us wants to be caught up in that nonsense," she insisted, jerking her head at the chaos happening above them. "Besides, you can help me with making the frosting for the cake!"

"What about Roxy?" Hermione asked as she was being nearly dragged toward the abbot's residence.

Jane guffawed loudly. "You should be more worried about what she has planned for those two buffoons. C'mon, it's freezing out here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit off the path for the story. It has elements I'll incorporate later but it's not essential for the main thrust. Hence why it's an intermission chapter.


	7. Act 1: Cyan Beast

Once inside, they took off their wet coats, boots, and socks and set them in front of the brazier to dry. It was a bit chilly but infinitely better without their wet things on. Jane had seemingly planned ahead for such a predicament. It looked to Hermione's eyes like she was paging through an invisible book. A profusion of clothing instantly popped out of nowhere, plopping neatly into her waiting arms. She handed a light blue sweater, a pair of socks, and a pair of slippers over to Hermione. Jane had already slipped herself into a vibrant red sweater and began pulling on the warm, dry socks.

"I was a camp fire girl," Jane said, answering the unasked question. "And my dad was a boy scout... always be prepared and all that."

And with that, she put on her apron and began to pull ingredients out of the cupboards briskly. The sounds of clattering bowls filled the room. She cheerfully gave Hermione directions on what needed to be started first. There were two different types of buttercream frosting she intended to use.

Italian buttercream would be used on the outside as it didn't tend to get melty straight away. The filling inside would be French buttercream prepared using the pâte à bombe technique. French buttercream frosting tended to be very fiddly and melted easily, which was why it was a better pick to fill the cake. It was also why she would be making it herself, as the recipe was rather difficult even for the most experienced home baker. She directed Hermione to make the Italian buttercream. The recipe she had was modified first by her father and then she'd made her own adjustments which made it easier and, most importantly, tastier.

Pointing out all the ingredients and her very own recipe book, complete with hand written alterations, she watched carefully as the young witch prepared the frosting. She could tell the girl was nervous as she had admitted to not being much of a cook. It didn't matter and Jane told her so. All she really had to do was follow the directions.

You didn't need to be an expert baker to make good frosting, in her opinion. Hermione had lots of questions which interrupted her own work, but Jane didn't mind all that much. She could make frosting in her sleep and helping a friend out was really no trouble. The one impression Hermione was left with was that Jane Crocker would have made an excellent teacher.

It was by no means an easy recipe, but Hermione thought she had acquitted herself very well. The frosting was light and buttery and it tasted amazing. She gave it to Jane for a final test and it was approved with a smile. Setting it aside as Jane had yet to finish the filling, Hermione settled for watching her work. It was fascinating to say the least. Her movements were easy and economical as she was perfectly at home here. Despite the complexity of the recipe, she was able to converse with Hermione without difficulty. All the while, she traded stories with Hermione about family and friends.

While talking, she noticed something strange - while Jane stirred there was what could only be described as fire emanating from her skin. It was light blue in color and ran from her hand to the spoon straight into what she was cooking. Jane noticed her rather indiscreet staring and gave a little cough.

Hermione started, realizing she'd been caught. "I'm sorry. It's just... I've never seen anything like it."

"Well, I wouldn't expect that you have," Jane remarked with a shrug. "It's just part and parcel of my particular Aspect. Whenever I'm cooking it flares up. It likes to be a part of things like this and I guess it just can't help itself."

"You talk about it as if it's alive."

"In a way, it is - it's Life, after all. And I'm Maid of it," she chuckled, taking particular joy in Hermione's look of confusion. "I think it flares like this when I'm cooking because food is such an essential part of life for all of us. It's a bit embarrassing when someone who isn't used to it sees me do it for the first time, but it does have its advantages. Life as an Aspect has healing properties. So it means whatever I cook is infused with those properties. I've always felt like cooking for people is a way to give something of yourself in the most elemental fashion - my power just makes it more literal."

"Made of life..." Taking this all in, Hermione hummed softly. "So, Life is your Aspect. Isn't there another bit to your title though?"

"I see you didn't get my terrible joke." Jane smiled and gave her a little wink. "I'm THE Maid of Life. Get it? My whole title is a pun. The Maid of Life who is made of life. Very silly but the Game is full of things like that. Look at John's title - Heir of Breath. Air as in the air we breathe and as the heir he inherits the wind."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude, but what does this game have to do with anything? You've mentioned it twice."

Jane looked as if she'd been slapped. "I don't understand. The Game... it's why we have our powers! I mean, I wasn't born with this, not really. None of us were. We all won the right to wield our power this way via the Game. Roxy told you, didn't she? How else could you explain-" Heart beating extremely fast, she looked at the young witch who wore a look of complete confusion. Inhaling shakily, she put down the frosting she'd been mixing. "She... she didn't tell you, did she?" The dread she felt was palpable as she saw Hermione shake her head slowly. "God, she didn't."

She turned around abruptly, inwardly fuming and trying desperately to figure out the best way to explain everything. Slamming her hands on the counter, she said forcefully, "Well, there's nothing for it. Hand me that pastry bag."

Alarmed, Hermione did as she was asked, handing the pastry bag over to Jane warily. With nimble grace, she placed the cake onto a small raised plate so she could apply the frosting. Carefully, she spooned the French buttercream into the bag and twisted it sharply, and she turned back to the cake and squeezed the frosting out onto it. As she worked, she began to speak.

"First of all, I don't want you to be angry at Roxy that she didn't tell you. I'm not happy about it but I understand why she didn't. Roxy... well, what you have to understand is the way she grew up... I mean, it's her story to tell and if she hasn't, I won't break her trust by saying anything. But it was isolated and she was very lonely. Her only friends were me, Dirk, and Jake for the longest time."

She paused briefly to align the top part of the cake with the bottom, pressing it down gently but firmly. "Because of her situation... her friends are more like family to her. Heck, it's that way for all of us to greater or lesser degrees. I'm sure you understand. Anyway, sometimes when it comes to stuff like this - Roxy can get a little irrational. She gets it in her head that she needs to protect you and then does something reckless and counterproductive. She once blew up my computer in hopes of preventing me from playing the Game. In the end, she was right to be suspicious, but..." Jane looked up at the ceiling with a little shrug. "This is no different. So, please don't judge her."

"Wait, Dave said they were all related... he, Roxy, Dirk, Rose... if that's true then-"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Jane chided as she portioned out the Italian buttercream into smaller bowls. "I'll get to all that because it's all sort of interconnected. You asked about the Game. So we'll start there."

As she squeezed food coloring into one of the smaller bowls and began to mix it, she started speaking slowly. "The name of the game as we knew it was SBURB, and I urge you never to repeat it and I will only ever say it once. It was billed as a multiplayer virtual reality video game with world building elements. According to all the advertising, it was supposed to be the next big gaming innovation. It was supposed to 'change the world' and it did... but not the way anyone thought it would," she said with a little tremulous laugh. "What all the slick merchandizing failed to mention was that minute you installed the damned thing it'd bring about the end of the world."

She paused, eyes narrowing. "Honestly, when I say that out loud it sounds insane." Shaking herself, she had begun carefully pouring out frosting onto the cake. "And if I hadn't experienced it first-hand... if I was in your shoes right now, I suppose I'd think that whoever told me such an outrageous story was as mad as a hatter. There are days where I wish that it was some tall tale a crazy person came up with. That it didn't really happen, but it did and we all have to live with it somehow."

She went very quiet for a second or two, her brows furrowed as she mixed a second color into the smaller bowls of frosting. In the seemingly endless quiet, Hermione could not help but voice the question that had been bubbling inside her. "I'm not saying I believe you but... if it's true... well, once you knew what would happen, you could have just refused to play."

"Well, here's the thing. Roxy knew and she told me beforehand, hence her attempted sabotage of my computer. And just like you, I didn't believe her. Who would?" She laughed again; it was a terribly tired sound. "Like I said before, she tried to keep me from playing it. But the Game doesn't make anything that simple. On the surface, it seems very easy... and I suppose if you think about it a certain way it was." And she exhaled shakily, her eyes taking on a slight sheen. "Our planet... our entire universe had been marked by the Game for destruction from day one and the only way to escape it was through the Game. Whether or not we installed it was irrelevant. It boiled down to whether we wanted to live or die. And despite all our reservations, we all chose to play. We chose to live."

"Marked? What do you mean?"

Carefully spooning blue frosting into a pastry bag, her lips thinned momentarily. "The Game chose our planet and marked it using a game construct, a temple, which was placed through a temporal portal and sent to our earth. Even the players were chosen because we were meant to... we were made to play it, sending us back through those same portals like some weird living portents of doom. So, really, there wasn't a choice at all. Temporal destiny fucked us good, which is the way Dave described it at one point," Jane said with a sardonic eye roll.

"Roxy said something about... that I wasn't made for the things she dealt with," Hermione exclaimed with a little gasp. Her brows furrowed suddenly in thought, piecing strands of information together as the puzzle began to knit itself together. "Is that what you meant about all of this being interconnected?"

Biting her lip as she carefully formed a flower petal out of frosting, she nodded her head affirmatively. "Yep! The process behind it is a little esoteric and hard to explain. But put simply, we were all created by the game, not born like normal people. Dirk and Roxy, Jake and I, were genetic bases for four other players - John and his friends. So while Rose is actually Dave's sister, Roxy and Dirk are more like their parents. But because of game time shenanigans, we're all the same age. Doesn't make sense to call someone dad when you're both the same age, does it. And none of us were ever meant to meet had we played the game as intended."

Without preamble, she went into further details about the game as she decorated the cake. Apparently there were two sessions, Alpha and Beta. John and his friends were part of the Beta session and had played the game first, which seemed illogical but that was par for the course, really. The point of the Game itself was to create a new universe. In John's session, it was viable and therefore able to create a new universe but unwinnable due to a strategic flaw. The players could chose to ride out the session and die or scratch it - restart it entirely with new parameters.

Jane made it very clear that restarting was not much better than death. In the new session, John and his friends would switch places with those that were their parents or guardians on their version of earth. In the new reality, it'd be Jane and her friends, their parents, who played while John and his friends would take on the more passive roles as their guardians. They would lose all memory of who they were before and all that had happened to them. Jane wasn't clear on the details, but they had somehow figured out how to retain their memories and join the new session intact. It involved a three year journey and a yellow yard and help from players in an entirely different universe, none of which were fully explained.

"Well, what happened when they entered your session?"

"We won and created a new universe," Jane replied simply, standing back from the now beautifully decorated cake.

"And that's it?!" she exclaimed incredulously. The ending of such a story, whether it was true or not, left a lot to be desired. It was as if Jane Austen had ended 'Pride and Prejudice' abruptly in the middle with "and they got over their issues completely and were married. The End." A fact Hermione wasn't shy about pointing out.

"We don't really have the time for the whole sordid tale. We'd be here for at least a week if I explained everything." Hermione gave her a look that was positively mutinous. "I've told you the most important points. Except one." A troubled look flitted over her pretty face. Instead of immediately explaining the comment, she began to clean up as if giving herself time and space to explain the next bit.

"Which is?" Hermione had hoped she didn't sound too impatient, but the truth was, well, she was dying for an answer. Even though the story was nigh unbelievable, it had the ring of truth about it and even if it wasn't true, it was a very good tale. Besides, Jane didn't seem like a person to whom lying came all that easily - especially a lie of this breadth and scale.

"I mentioned that John's session contained a critical flaw that made it impossible for them to win. The flaw wasn't there by accident but by design. It was put there by a rather malevolent entity that shall remain unnamed, for safety's sake. This entity engineered this flaw and placed it in order to allow his 'employer' to enter our universe and to give him unimpeded access to both our sessions." Almost as if she could hear the question before it was asked, she continued, "This employer of his was... a demon, I guess it's the best way to put it. This demon had been cutting a swath of destruction through various universes for a very long time. Ours was only one in a long string to suffer his influence. The damage done to the fabric of reality by his rampage was... extensive."

"That's why you're here, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. He had quite the grudge against, well, reality itself. The fact that the whole point of the Game was the propagation of existence..." Jane trailed off with a jerky shrug. "Anyway, he hijacked the Game's own mechanics against it so that he could continue his reign of terror. We were the unlucky schlubs who pulled the short straw and had to deal not only with beating the game but dealing with him as well. We did it, but it'll never be over until the fabric of space-time is healed, which, as you might imagine, has not exactly been all that easy."

The seriousness of what they were doing hit Hermione right then. It was easy for her to somehow pretend that whatever they were here for wasn't all that dire. The lackadaisical American way of going about things had perhaps blinded her. There was one thing that did confuse her.

"Why tell me all this? You implied earlier that I ought to know... but I think Roxy is right. This is beyond me."

"Well, you're still in school, still learning," Jane corrected gently. "Besides, from what I've read of you and your friends, you all have handled things most adults couldn't deal with." That garnered a small smile. "And in four years, you'll truly be a force to be reckoned with. That's why we're here after all! Well, firstly, because we will need your help quite badly. And secondly, when we first met you in what will be your future you knew a whole lot about us. So obviously, we had to go back and make sure it happened, lest we create a paradox. I guess we all assumed it was Roxy that'd tell you. Turns out it was me. Either way, you know what you need to now. So, paradox averted!"

It strangely hurt to hear that the only reason they came was to give her information she needed. They had treated her very much like a valued friend, but once again... would she only ever be a valuable font of information? Jane could see where her train of thought was going. Wiping her hands off on her apron, she touched her shoulder and rubbed it gently.

"I know what you're thinking. But you're wrong. Dave and Roxy had one job. Tell you everything I just told you. Instead, they frogged around because they were having such a good time hanging out with you. Leaving me with all the dirty work," Jane complained, though it was obvious she wasn't all that bothered. "Roxy for all her faults is a great judge of character. So if she befriends someone, it's pretty much guaranteed they are objectively a great person. And she wouldn't have insisted on this party if she didn't consider you a friend. Dave is the very same way, being her son and all. It may have started out as a mission but in the end they got so attached to you that they couldn't stand being the bearer of bad news."

"Aw! D'ya really think all those nice things about me?" chimed a very familiar voice, wearing a Chesire cat grin a mile wide. "Makin' me feel mad guilty over here for ostensibly shirking the shit outta my one job." Roxy had the good grace to grimace a little at her admission.

Jane's eyes narrowed a bit before her expression softened into fondness. "Yes, I do mean all those nice things and yes, you should feel guilty, you big horse's caboose."

"Sorry," she said though it sounded more like a question than a statement. "Ya mad at me?"

Jane made a very familiar flat expression that implied exasperation. With an eye roll, she shook her head. "I really ought to be but everyone knows I can't. I mean, look at that face."

Roxy beamed happily, skipping over to give Jane and then Hermione a bone crushing hug. Her attention was quickly diverted by the confection sitting innocently on the counter. "Yay! CAKE!"

She swiped a finger-full of frosting off the recently decorated cake. Jane gave an indignant squawk, slapping her friend's hands away irately. She gave her a dirty look before shoving the now empty bowl of frosting into Roxy's hands, mumbling the entire time about having to fix the damned cake.

While she re-piped the side of the cake, she turned to Roxy, who was happily licking frosting off a spatula. "So, where are the boys?"

"Oh, they're still outside, probs," she said, her eyes twinkling mysteriously as if she was more than clear where they were.

Jane shook her head as she dried a fork with her towel. "I assume you won the snowball fight?"

"Handily," Roxy replied with a wicked grin. "Dumped about three feet of snow I pilfered from the top of the Rockies on 'em. They should be digging themselves out-"

The rugs covering the door were thrown open as Dave stomped inside. "Right now, you mean?! And it was more like six feet of fucking snow, you ass."

John tromped in shortly thereafter, mumbling disconsolately, "I got snow in places I didn't know snow could go."

Both of them looked bedraggled, Dave's hair hand gone completely flat while John's was a twisted wreck. Their clothes were rumpled and clotted with snow that had begun to melt. Both were shivering badly. Jane immediately made them sit down and take off their wet things, handing out more sweaters and socks as she guided them to sit by the fire. Mugs of hot cocoa were stuffed in their hands unceremoniously. Roxy told Hermione that she could use her magic if she'd like, as it wouldn't register thanks to her 'sleeper' power. So she carefully cast a drying and a warming charm on their clothes. It was the first time she'd used her own magic in front of them and was embarrassed by how impressed they were.

"Wow, your powers can do really useful stuff," John complimented, sipping his hot cocoa loudly. "Wish our powers were that versatile. I mean, making tornadoes is cool and all, but it'd be nice to have it do simple stuff - not just junk for fighting monsters."

"Oh, it wasn't anything special," Hermione spluttered, her cheeks flushing. "A simple spell I learned in my first year."

"Bullshit. You dried my kicks. I owe you a fucking life debt," Dave insisted, fishing out a marshmallow with a spoon messily and eating it. His feet wiggled a bit in his shoes, which were now quite dry and comfortable.

Shortly thereafter, cake was handed out. It was as delicious as everything else had been. Hermione thought she might be imagining it, but she felt warmer and more at peace after having eaten it; as if healed from the inside. All the stress and upset she'd been feeling just melted away. There was only a little melancholia leftover - knowing that eventually she'd have to say goodbye to all these wonderful people... no, wonderful friends. And she wouldn't even see them again for a full four years. So she drank the scene in. John and Dave were laughing uproariously at some strange in-joke only understood by the two of them. Roxy chattering companionably, her hands fluttering excitedly while Jane listened with a small smile on her face. They both turned to her, including her in on the conversation. It was a completely silly discussion on the different kinds of things one could use in lieu of a makeup sponge.

"You wouldn't be able to use a hardboiled egg that way. The shell is weakened by the warmth of the water and it'd just start peeling off and getting mixed up in the foundation, and end up all over your face. You would in the most literal way possible have egg on your face," Jane pointed out acidly. "Don't try and debate me on this, Roxy."

"Okay, okay! Oh, Queen of Cooking," Roxy replied, waving her hands in a placatory fashion. "So what about a raw egg?"

"A raw egg wouldn't be much better. It's not really pliable enough to work properly," Hermione sighed. "And heaven forbid it breaks. It'd make a right mess then."

"Okay, then what if you took the shell OFF the hardboiled egg?" Roxy asked, her lips tipped up mischievously. "Like, use the egg meats underneath to sponge the makeup on."

Jane and Hermione made twin exclamations of disgust while Roxy cackled - pleased that this hypothetical discussion had born the fruit she'd been growing the entire time. The rest of the afternoon played out in the same fashion. Most of the conversations were silly and occasionally ridiculous. At one point, Roxy had dragged out her phone to reveal that it didn't just take still pictures. It had a video function and well. They spent several minutes viewing Roxy's favorite cat videos. She had laughed more in that short time than she had in weeks. But all too quickly the day came to an end. Saying goodbye was as hard as she'd imagined. There were a lot of tears on all sides. But the promise of seeing them again, even if it was in four years, buoyed her a bit.

"How will we be going back?" she asked, her voice congested with tears.

"I'll be taking you," Dave stated with a nod. "Me and Roxy ran into a bit of a problem couple days back."

"Pretty sure we're suspected," Roxy confessed, her nose wrinkling. "Good Mr. Potter noticed us the last time we spoke. We both thought it'd be better if we delivered ya back a bit sooner than normal."

"He confronted me before I came here," Hermione admitted. "Wanted to know who you were."

"Good thing we'll be getting you back around eleven. Hopefully you have a good excuse ready," Dave said, one shoulder lifting up laconically.

"I'll be going first. Gonna send Dave a text when I'm sure the coast is clear, okay?"

Where Roxy once stood there was a shadow which stood there for one a moment before disappearing into the dark, swirling void. There were several long minutes while they waited. Jane was trying to hold back tears as she said goodbye, giving Hermione one of several dozen hugs. John stood next to her, patting her back comfortingly with a perplexed look on his face. He also gave her an awkward hug, promising her that he couldn't wait to meet her for the first time in four years. He made a strange comment about being just like someone named Karkat because he was trolling her backwards.

"Don't worry," he said jovially. "My future-past self is gonna tell your future self what that means so you get the joke. Or I guess your future self could just ask Karkat's future-past self, which would be pretty hilarious. Anyway, you'll have to let me know then how funny you think it is."

And then Dave's phone chimed. With a grim nod, she walked over to him, waving at her friends one last time. Then there was that sensation of falling dizzily off a cliff and the monastery disappeared. Seconds later they were on the Astronomy Tower several hours before their party had even ended. Above all else, this final departure was what she had been dreading. Both she and Roxy had a hard time keeping tears from coming. In the end, they both just let them come and did nothing to wipe them away.

"I got your bookbag," Roxy sniffled, holding it up a bit unnecessarily. "All your homework's been checked and doubled checked. Left you a bunch of notes... probably be good for the next couple months, I hope. I also gave you my second favorite pen. Writes real good and since I made it with weird game shit it won't get fucked up by magic."

"Thank you," Hermione whispered, wiping her face with her palm. She was quiet for a long moment. "What I am going to do without you... both of you?" She looked from Roxy to Dave, her lips trembling.

Roxy smiled and it was very brittle. "You managed just fine without us 14 years..."

"T-that wuh-w-was befuh-f-fore," Hermione stammered. As if by some secret signal, they both embraced each other. "I duh-d-don't want you to guh-g-go."

Roxy released her, gently cupping her friend's face. "I don't wanna go either. But I gotta. Y-you know how important what we're doing is. Can't fuck it up like I did with telling you all that dumb shit I didn't tell ya." She embraced her a second time and gave her cheek a little peck. "As your official big sister, cus don't think we ain't adopting your ass, be careful, okay?" Roxy didn't let go of her arms until she received a nod in the affirmative. "Good. Gonna miss the fuck outta you."

It was Dave's turn next. He sloped over in the same lackadaisical fashion as when she'd first met him, a person with all the time in the world but unfortunately other places he had to be. "So, time to go," he enunciated carefully, his entire mien was adorably awkward. "I ain't one for long goodbyes. Soooo study hard, I guess, and all that other after school special shit. Just... just give 'em hell."

"Give who hell?" Because there was no way she'd let him get away with that being the last thing he said to her for four whole years.

"Everyone all the time, that's who." She lifted her eyebrows at him expectantly. There was more in him, she knew. He toed the ground nervously. "Seriously though, you're cool as hell. I know it's rough for you right now, but you'll get through it. Cus you're a fucking badass. I ain't gonna be time buddies with any old dipshit who can't throw down. And clearly you ain't no dipshit and you got a mean right hook," he said this with a conspiratorial wink that was baffling as it was amusing. "But seriously, you're one of the smartest women I know, and I know a lot of smart ladies." At this Hermione smiled wanly as she continued her futile attempt to brush back her tears. "So, you go fuck some shit up. Make some boys cry. I know you got it in you." This got a laugh out of her as they fist bumped. "It's been real though."

He hugged her tightly and pressed a kiss to her temple. She blushed a deep beetroot red as he pulled away, ruffling her hair affectionately. When she looked at him she saw that he wasn't as unaffected by their parting as it seemed. He didn't cry like Roxy, but his mouth was thin and his entire face was tight as he valiantly attempted to control his emotions. No one mentioned it when he lifted his aviators to scrub at the area around his eyes.

With all their final goodbyes said, it was time to go. He grabbed Roxy's hand, knowing he didn't really need to. But dramatic effect was always a plus in these moments, he'd found. The gears turned, a chime sounded and he and Roxy were pulled back through time, leaving her alone on the Astronomy Tower.

Hermione stood there for a long time, staring out into the bleak winter sky with her arms wrapped around her middle. She didn't even bother batting away the tears as they froze on her cheeks. Eventually she composed herself enough to leave. She visited a bathroom on the way back to Gryffindor Tower so she could pull herself into a better semblance of normalcy. Thinking about it, she supposed it wouldn't be all that strange that she'd looked like she'd been crying. After all, she had been doing it quite a bit. But it was a point of pride that she did not appear to be visibly upset. Harry would not doubt have gone off halfcocked looking for her. If she were to have some sort of confrontation with him, she'd need to have her wits about her. Appearing weak and weepy right now would not solve any of those problems.

Thankfully, the walk back to the tower was uneventful. A few people she knew waved and said hello to her. She waved back with a less enthusiastic smile than she was trying for. It was strange to think that there was another version of her right now that was in that monastery, with all its extraordinary revelations and warm memories. She bottled those happy memories and kept them close as she entered the Tower, looking warily into the common room.

It wasn't yet noon and because it wasn't exactly nice out it was full of people. Harry was there at the chess table with Ron. His chair was the one that faced the entrance, no doubt so he could tell when she came back. Heart thudding in her chest, she tried to walk in casually. His eyes snapped up the minute the portrait door closed. As their gazes met, he stood up suddenly. He looked like he was going to storm over and start asking more questions. Ron gave him a strange look and said something she couldn't hear over the din. Then he looked over to see what Harry was staring at. He scowled and turned away, smacking Harry's arm as if admonishing him for acknowledging her existence. Harry hadn't noticed and took a step forward instead. Hermione wouldn't give him a chance to take another.

She hurried towards the girl's dormitory, taking the stairs up two at a time until she reached the door. Once it was closed, she pressed her back against it gratefully. Numbly, she collapsed on her bed. It took every bit of energy left in her to take off her coat and boots. She sat there for a bit, having dug Roxy's pen out of her bag. It was bright pink with a funny little cat logo on it. She held it to her heart before setting it gently on her bed table. Blessedly, Crookshanks was waiting for her. He leapt up onto her bed, looking at her with his large yellow eyes. Padding over to her pillow, he lay next to it, blinking at her slowly in invitation. Pulling the curtains on her four-poster, she lay down. The cat rearranged himself so that his back was flush against her stomach. He started to purr, giving her the best comfort a cat could give. With a sigh, she fell asleep for the better part of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in awhile! I hope I haven't disappointed anyone. Anyway, the next update is coming in April, which is awhile away. I'm sorry for that. But I wanted to end Act I on 4/13. To be clear, this will not mark the end of the story. Just the first act.


	8. Act 1: Sburban Reversal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at the end of Act 1. THERE WILL BE MORE ACTS. Like not as many as Homestuck, but this story is not over yet. Happy 413!

It had been a little over two months since her tearful farewell at the end of January. Not a day had gone by that she hadn't thought of both Dave and Roxy. There were moments where she stopped before entering class as if looking for someone who wasn't there. And most Sundays if you were looking for Hermione you would find her sitting in the Astronomy Tower, looking out at the sky bleakly as if waiting for someone who would not come. Sometimes she'd find herself just staring out the window at night. She would drink in the stars because somehow they made her feel closer to the new friends she'd lost. If Harry or Ron noticed her melancholy, they did not say. And if asked, Hermione suspected they'd just blame it on her overfull schedule. Stress made a nice scapegoat and kept Harry and Ron from asking difficult questions.

That was perhaps the best thing that had come out of the last two months. They were now a trio once more. Apparently Hagrid had something of a hand in it. He might have mentioned the handful of times where she'd gone to his hut on the pretense of helping him with Buckbeak's hearing, only to spend a good portion of it crying. He might have also mentioned that they ought to care more for a friend than for brooms or rats. They had sheepishly apologized to her sometime after Hagrid's dressing down.

A very small, petty part of her didn't want to forgive them. It wanted to hold on to the hurt, to make them feel a fraction of what she'd been dealing with for so long. But the better angel of her nature prevailed. In the end, the only person she'd hurt would be herself. They were friends again, that was all that mattered.

Days after her Roxy and Dave had left, she had half suspected that Harry would track her down and demand answers. Surprisingly, he didn't. She supposed that Ron's smack to his arm  _had_  really reminded him that they were pretending she didn't exist. Even so, it was a persistent worry of hers that he'd become insistent on getting answers she couldn't give. This did not stop once they'd reconciled. In point of fact, Hermione had made it a point to not be alone with Harry, hoping he'd forgotten but knowing he hadn't.

It had been during a very early breakfast that he'd finally cornered her. She knew something was wrong because he was unusually quiet, biting his lip and glancing at her surreptitiously. Whenever he had a question that he was afraid of asking, he'd nibble on his cuticles for several minutes before hitching a breath and pressing his lips together and then he'd just bluntly blurt out whatever was bothering him. His pattern remained unbroken. The question came out in a breathless rush of words, ' _Whowerethosestrangepeopleyouweremeetingbefore_?' It was as if the faster he said it the less likely it was to make her angry with him.

Thankfully she'd had loads of time to come up with a good excuse. The time turner provided a logical way to divert their attention. Obviously she couldn't tell them about it, but they had noticed her schedule and all the very odd contradictions on it. This provided a ready excuse and it would work because it wasn't entirely a lie. Those strange people he saw her with were helping her with a special project McGonagall had given her.

" _I'm really not supposed to let anyone know, Harry. I've gotten special permission for it and Professor McGonagall thought it'd look bad if other students knew. They want to avoid even the hint of favoritism, you know. So please, don't ask about it anymore._ "

She had felt sick about telling her best friend such a blatant lie, feeling even worse when he bought it hook, line, and sinker. She had never felt so guilty in her entire life but it really was for the best. They'd put her away if she told them the truth - that two bored demigods hung out with her for a month because she was going to help them out in the future. That was the stuff of bad muggle Sci-Fi that her father favored, things like Doctor Who with their villains made out of hosepipes and vaccum cleaner parts.

The important part was that everything was back to normal. They were all friends and any awkward questions she couldn't answer had been completely cleared up.

Today was April 13th, which was not a remarkable day at all, except for the fact that it was the first really nice spring day they'd had. The sun was out and there was a very lovely breeze. There were a number of students skiving off to enjoy the day. Hermione was not one of those students, though sadly Harry and Ron were. They thought she was mental for staying in and studying after class when she could be outside doing something 'fun'. She rather thought her studies were a bit more important. Her Arithmancy paper would not write itself.

So here she was, in the library as always with books and notes piled around her neatly. There was a conspicuously muggle looking notebook set out amongst all the parchment. Written in surprisingly neat handwriting were pages and pages of notes and formulas. The notes were clearly not written in Hermione's hand, the syntax was off, the spelling was atrocious, and it was liberally peppered with swear words, something Hermione would never have done. They were, of course, Roxy's copious notes she'd give Hermione before she left.

Had she not been familiar with the way her friend wrote, she might think she was drunk or otherwise impaired. But she knew for a fact that half of the typos were on purpose to make her laugh and the rest were because she thought so fast that spelling became too much of a bother. There were also little crudely drawn pictures of kittens in pink ink and other silly doodles (clearly added in by Dave and John in red and blue ink respectively) that made her smile fondly when she looked at them. Roxy had said that she hoped they lasted a couple months. In truth, the notes could last a whole year and that was only for ONE of her classes. Hermione was deeply impressed by how thorough she'd been. The best part was how she'd worded them to be easily understandable with the added effect that Hermione read them in her voice when looking them over.

She had only known them a short month but she missed them both terribly.

Shafts of bright sunlight shone through the narrow library windows, only slightly muted by the stained glass. Hermione looked up briefly to appreciate it as motes of dust coruscated gently through the bright planes of light that illuminated the dark library. Someone must have opened a window somewhere. A clean spring breeze drifted through the hall. Breathing it in, she exhaled with a smile and went back to her work. Roxy's detailed notes would all be for naught if she didn't use them, after all.

Such was her concentration that she didn't notice the unnatural hush that came over the entire library. Even though Madame Pince tried to enforce absolute silence, it really was a losing battle. There was always some noise. Whispered conversations, the sound of rifling paper, the slow sound of books being draw off or onto shelves and the satisfying thunk when they were plopped on desks. All of that stopped abruptly. Hermione would have known why had she bothered to look up, but she didn't. She was fully focused on her paper and her notes.

To call the young woman who walked into the library that day beautiful would have been a dreadful understatement. She was quite short and very slight but the way she carried herself made her seem terribly imposing. The sound of her clacking heels was now the only one that could be heard. Almost every eye in the library watched her progress as she strolled down the isle of desks. One young man who was so absorbed in watching her managed to drop a very large tome on his foot as he tried to re-shelve it. Another girl fell off the chair she'd been leaning back on just to get a look at her. The only one who remained oblivious was Hermione.

She stopped at Hermione's table, gracefully threading her way through the chairs until she stood directly in front of the girl she'd come here to see. With an impish smile, she dropped the large set of books she'd been carrying on the table in front of Hermione, heedless of the echoing sound they caused. The young witch gasped loudly, her eyes flying up to glower at whoever decided to interrupt her work. Any remonstrations she had died on her lips.

Standing in front of her with her hand delicately tented on a large pile of books was none other than Rose Lalonde, dressed in Ravenclaw robes. The pictures she'd seen had not done her justice. She was the single most beautiful woman Hermione had ever seen in her whole life.

Bright lavender eyes shining, she tilted her head and asked in a low voice. "Would you mind if I sat with you?"

Hermione could only nod her head mutely. She slowly cleared off an area in front of her, hardly able to believe her eyes. In one fluid movement, the Seer of Light sat down with enviable grace.

"I think we can dispense with formal introductions. We know each other's names, after all. Seems a bit pointless repeating facts we're already aware of."

"Um, s-sure," Hermione agreed nervously. "Not to appear ungrateful, but I'm wondering..."

"Why I'm here?" Rose thought for a moment, resting her head in her hand. "That's a very simple question with a very complex answer. I suppose the foremost reason is a bit selfish on my part. I wanted to meet you."

"You wanted to meet me?" Hermione squeaked, curling in on herself in disbelief.

"Is that so unbelievable?" Rose said with a laugh, it was a light, tinkling sound.

By the startled look on Hermione's face, it was. Rose sobered somewhat as she reached into the air, seemingly tapping at nothing. A book floated slowly into her hands like a leaf falling from a tree in autumn. She caught the paperback easily and held it in both hands like it was a precious treasure. Hermione could not read the cover as it was turned away from her. The back of the book wasn't much better; it was very tattered from being read quite a bit, no doubt. All she could see was a bit of vibrant illustration - there were a number of what looked like brightly patterned curtains and an owl flying over a vast forest. In the corner, she could see just the tip of a trainer belonging to a figure she could not see.

"There's a theory that there are infinite discrete universes in infinite variations with infinite possibilities. The concept is best expressed by Schrödinger's cat - being simultaneously alive and dead in box. I think that's rather grim, don't you?" Rose asked, her gaze was penetrating.

"Yes, I agree," Hermione answered cautiously, it was a very strange way to begin a conversation with someone you'd just met. She rubbed her lips together nervously before continuing. "Dave said you all were from some alternate version of earth. I suppose that's why you bring this up."

Rose tilted her head in acquiescence, her eyes never leaving Hermione's own. She placed the book, cover up, in front of her as if daring her to look. Hermione did not. "Do you believe him?"

She thought about it for a long time before nodding. "Yes, I think I do. Is it so important that I believe?"

"That's for you to decide. Personally, I think having hope in something is far more important than _just_  belief. Hope for the future. Hope that you might make a difference in the world, no matter how small. Hope that things turn out all right. Belief suggests a certain rigidity of thought, a sense of unshakeable certainty that all those things WILL happen. But what happens when it doesn't? Hope is less certain than belief but it is also more flexible - more adaptable to the idea that the world is imperfect and that things don't always work out as planned. But that's just my perspective. That being said, I do hope you'll take his words at face value." Eyes glittering, she said nothing for a long moment before calmly observing, "You're very nervous. Dave and Roxy have talked me up quite a bit, haven't they?"

"Just a little."

"Hmm. They say that you should never meet your heroes because you'll inevitably be disappointed. No doubt because you realize that the person you idolize is human after all, with all the messiness that entails. I disagree. Meeting my hero has been very agreeable, I think." Rose said all this while looking her directly in the eye, unblinkingly.

Hermione was breathless with shock, easily reading between the lines. It took her several seconds to recover. "You're implying that I'm your hero?"

"Oh, it's not mere implication. It's a statement of fact," Rose said bluntly. "And I suppose I've become something similar for you, thanks to Dave and Roxy's no doubt outrageously exaggerated tales about me and my exploits."

"Well, yes. But it makes sense... even if they were exaggerated, you are quite brave. He said... he said I reminded him of you."

"That's very sweet of him. I'll have to remind myself to give him the sick-nastiest of fist bumps when I get back."

"But what I don't understand is how I could be yours, even if Dave exaggerated stories about me. I haven't done anything important like you have. Not really. Besides, I'm so much younger than all of you."

Rose gazed at her, her lips tipping up into her trademarked impish smile. "Someone once said that if you believe in infinite universes with infinite possibilities, then by extension you would have to believe that somewhere in the universe dragons exist. I think it was Charles Dutton. Yes, I'm very sure it was Charles Dutton who said that." Her eyes twinkled mischievously, knowing full well Charles Dutton said no such thing. "In my universe, on my earth, there were no dragons. No magic. No witches. It was all the stuff of fantasy. Only when I entered the Game did such things become real. Here, in  _this_  universe, on  _this_  earth, there are dragons and magic and witches but thankfully no game to usher in Armageddon. The more you dig into the guts that make reality, the stranger existence becomes." There was that smile again as she slowly tapped one manicured finger on the book laying just in front of her, once again daring the young witch to look.

Hermione glanced down quickly, her eyes skimming the cover finally. She had to look twice. In embossed gold lettering was her best friend's name and underneath in what looked like faux stone was written ' _And the Sorcerer's Stone'_. Blanching, she immediately looked up at Rose and glared.

"What is  _that_?"

"A book my mother gave me when I was only eight. I almost cried when I turned eleven and didn't receive a letter. But then, there isn't a Hogwarts where I come from." Her smile was a little sad. "I never thought I'd find myself here, and  _with you_  for that matter. As you can imagine, being a very smart girl, perhaps just a bit too smart for her own good, I was very happy to find a character in a book that was so much like me."

"Is that why you all knew so much about... everything? Because there's some book that tells our... Harry's story?" Hermione breathed, not sure of what emotion she ought to be feeling right now. It was a strange thing to know that somewhere in a completely different universe someone who hadn't even known you had written your story.

"There are movies as well." If possible, Hermione became paler. "Incidentally, you look nothing like the actress that played you. But to answer your question, yes, that's partly why we know so much. The other part is, of course, due to Dave's flagrant abuse of time travel."

Hermione closed her eyes. "I'm going crazy. This isn't happening. It's just the stress." She opened her eyes to find Rose staring at her wryly, leaning her head on her folded hands.

"Still here," she chimed merrily. "Infinite universes with infinite possibilities, remember? And one of those possibilities is a world where this one is a story that I've read multiple times since I was eight. I've come to the conclusion that perhaps even my story has been written by some author or the other. If my theory holds, there's a girl in some other universe right now reading about everything I've gone through, as horrible as some of it was. I have to admit, I can't imagine there'd be anyone who'd want to write a highly fictionalized account of what we've done or who would even read  _that_ kind of garbage. Just as I think you couldn't imagine anyone wanting to read about you." Rose could see how Hermione was focusing on the book from the anguished way she was gazing at it. She knew it wouldn't do to dwell, so she carefully put it back into her Sylladex.

Shaking herself, she looked at Rose with furrowed brows. "Why show me that? Why tell me at all?"

"Because you deserve the truth," Rose stated simply. "The  _whole_  truth, or at least as much of it as I can safely divulge. And because you need to be prepared for what you'll face four years from now." Without looking, she set a hand gracefully on the stack of books she'd brought with her.

"What are those?"

"Books, obviously."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You know what I meant."

"Of course but that doesn't mean I won't give you shit for it!" Another tinkling laugh escaped her lips before her face became serious once more. "I brought these for you. Since we knew so much about you, I felt it only fair that you knew more about us." She carefully pushed the pile of books towards Hermione.

The young witch didn't know what to say. Gingerly, she pulled the first book off the pile, a thick lime green volume with no title. Opening it, she flipped through the contents curiously. Stopping on a random page, she began to read. It all seemed very technical, like a manual of sorts - talking about devices that had to be deployed and punch cards.

Without waiting for any questions, Rose began, "That volume is a complete record of the game as we played it. The first part was a walkthrough of sorts that I wrote when first playing it, I apologize that you have to read it but it does have important information you'll need to understand, well, a lot of things. Just remember, I was only thirteen when I wrote it," she said with a self-deprecating smirk. "The rest are culled from everyone's recollections during and after, including as much of my research into the game and its overall history, as little as there is of it."

"Parts are blacked out," Hermione observed, looking up at her skeptically as she gestured at the book.

"Information on certain players and antagonists  _have_  been omitted because knowledge of them is very dangerous. I wouldn't have done it otherwise." It was the first time Rose avoided her eyes. "We all have our monsters we have to fight, you see. Ours... well, even saying his title is like an invitation. So, for your own good and the good of your universe, I censored it and anything else I thought might put you in harm's way. Don't think for a moment that I like it, but better safe than sorry. It's a bit like the reason no one in your world likes saying Voldemort."

Hermione flinched, silently conceding the point. "And the others?"

"Books 'borrowed' from Prospit's library. They give details about the various mythological roles in the Game. One deals with Class and the other deals with Aspect. The third had details on how Class and Aspect interact. The last is about basic mechanics of the game that I hadn't included in my walkthrough; the functions of Prospit and Derse, dreamselves, etcetera. I hope it'll be informative."

"Thank you," she replied quietly. Her eyes losing focus as she was deep in thought.

"What's wrong?"

"When I first met you all... I wanted answers. But now that I have them, I'm not sure that I want them. Does that make any sense?" She looked at Rose with heartbreaking confusion.

"That's the trouble with asking questions," Rose commented sadly. "You don't always like the answers you're given. An experience I am intimately familiar with, I assure you."

Hermione gave a small nod. For the first time since they started this conversation, she looked around. While every eye in the room was no longer fixated on Rose as they were when she first entered, it was still quite obvious that she was a definite source of interest. People were staring, though they were trying not to be obvious about it. Hermione looked around, confused by the reaction. In a way, it was like she was Roxy's exact opposite. People noticed her too much rather than not at all.

"That's odd," she mumbled, mostly to herself.

"What is?"

"Everyone keeps staring at you... like you're famous or something. But no one even knows who you are!"

"That would be a side effect of my Aspect. Light tends to call attention to itself - you might even say that it illuminates things," she explained with a fluttering hand wave. "It's made a bit worse due to the fact that I'm a Seer. The interaction between my class as a Seer and my aspect as Light... well, once you've read the materials I've left you, you'll understand. You'll also find that illumination isn't its primary function, game-wise."

"What other functions could light have?"

"Ah, you've hit my weakness. Us Light players do like to talk about our Aspect. But, sadly, I'm afraid I will have to resist the urge."

Ever observant, Hermione said, "You have to go."

"Unfortunately, yes.  _You_  also have to study and I'm doing an awfully good job of distracting you."

"I suppose I'll see you in four years then?"

"That you will." She smiled very genuinely and held out her hand. Hesitating for only a moment, Hermione took it. Rose placed her other hand over Hermione's, squeezing it gently. "I'm very glad we got to meet and I look forward to seeing you again."

Hermione had not known what to think about Rose. At first she wasn't even sure that she liked her, not until this moment. She wasn't as effusive as Roxy or as silly as Dave. She was, in point of fact, very intimidating. There was something closed off about her, as if she held people purposefully at arm's length with the sheer force of her intelligence. Hermione admitted quietly, and to herself, it was because Dave was right - she and Rose were very similar people. They both sought solace in learning, in being the smartest and the best at whatever they set their minds to; both of them reaching for a kind of personal perfection that was always just beyond their reach.

Hermione squeezed her hand back and said with great sincerity, "I'm very glad we got to meet as well."

"Study hard," Rose commanded, her smile turning impish once more as she knocked her knuckles on the books. "There'll be a quiz in four years."

"Well then, I suppose I should get right to it. I'd hate to fail, especially after having four whole years to study for it."

Rose laughed a bit louder than she had up to this point, it sounded like pealing church bells. Without further ado, she stood. "Goodbye, Miss Granger."

Hermione stood up as well, thoroughly amused. "Goodbye, Miss Lalonde."

Rose gave a little salute, very much as Dave had often done. It was the first time Hermione could really see the family resemblance in terms of personality. Suddenly light from the windows hit her pale hair just right, surrounding her like a halo. The dark library seemed impossibly bright in that moment and she looked akin to an angel. The light faded but she did not dim. Almost as if in slow motion, she turned and began to walk away. Stopping only to summon a boy no one else, not even Hermione, had noticed. He was dressed in Hufflepuff's colors and he turned to give her a silly wave which was preceded by a cool April breeze ruffling her hair.

'Goodbye,' she mouthed with a grin, waving back at the Heir of Breath.

Hermione did not watch them leave like everyone else. Instead, she turned back to her studies, once again oblivious to the world. Flipping the green book open, she began to read. She didn't choose the very first page of the walkthrough; instead, she skipped ahead a bit to the actual narrative. It began:  _A young man stands in his bedroom. It just so happens that this day, April 13_ _th_ _, 2009, is his birthday_...

**End Act I**


	9. Act 2: Pendulum

Four years had passed and she could be forgiven for forgetting about a promise made to her when she was only fourteen years old. It wasn't precisely that she'd forgotten the very short friendship she'd forged in the winter of 1993. There were times where it had seemed like she'd convinced herself it was a dream or a kind of fugue state. That part of her who still believed it was stress that conjured a pair of demigods from Merlin knows where  _could_ be very convincing. Then she'd look at the silly flyer Dave had drawn all over or the little pink fountain pen Roxy had given her and then she'd remember herself - they had been her friends and she missed them profoundly. And when she remembered, she'd spend the next few hours in a strange melancholy funk. But it wasn't all that frequent and as time passed, those moments came less and less often.

There were other things she had to worry about - terrible things.

As those years passed, things had gotten gradually worse. It started with Cedric Diggory's death and it continued to go downhill from there. Her life had become a steady stream of never ending misery, with one death coming right after another. Until she was here, four years later, starving and cold on a futile hunt for Horcruxes in a last ditch attempt to finally end Voldemort's reign of terror.

The one person they had trusted the most, Albus Dumbledore, had left them with nothing but scraps of information; mere hints - rumors at best - that were almost worse than nothing at all. There was something of Hufflepuff's and something of Ravenclaw's and the snake. They had one Horcrux in their possession. They'd figured out how to destroy it: The Sword of Gryffindor. Sadly, they didn't have any idea on how to obtain the sword so they could use it. So they were in this limbo, fugitives and on the run trying to kill the fragments of a mad man's soul with no idea where most of those fragments might be and with nothing to destroy them with.

Hermione thought that things couldn't really get much worse. She could have kicked herself, because the moment she thought things like that was the moment that they inevitably DID get worse. Ron had left them near the beginning of September. It was now mid-November. The weather had turned colder which made foraging harder. Neither of them was any good at hunting. Ron had been passable at it, but he was gone. He'd managed to snare a rabbit the day he'd left. It had sustained them for a day or two after... and it'd tasted like ashes in her mouth.

Her mother had told her that when bad things happen it was important to keep putting one foot in front of the other. She'd said that it was important to go on and push through because it couldn't rain all the time. That's how she put it.  _It can't rain all the time, Hermione_. If she could have talked to her mother right now, if she'd even remember she had a daughter, she would tell her that it most certainly could rain all the time. That sometimes it was nothing but infinite rain.

Pulling the damnable Horcrux out from underneath her jumper, she glared at the filthy thing. Someone shook her shoulder. Looking up, it was Harry. His hand was held out as if he knew - he always knew - that she'd been wearing it for far too long. With a tired sigh, she pulled it off and gave it to him wordlessly.

They did that a lot now. Not talking.

She'd timed it once. They'd actually gone almost five whole days without saying a word to each other. Non-verbal noises didn't count, of course. It would officially be five days once today was over. She got up to go inside the tent without a word. It was his turn taking watch. She'd probably cry once she got inside, it was the only workout her voice got now.

"We'll have to leave tomorrow morning," he murmured as she grasped the tent-flap. "We've been here too long."

"Okay," she whispered back, thinking to herself that he'd ruined it; four days without talking - a now standing record. She wasn't entirely sure if she was happy about that or not.

The tent-flap closed with a swish behind her. She stood there for a moment, wavering on her feet, light headed and heart sore. Numbly, she walked to her "room" which wasn't so much a room because there weren't really rooms in tents, as far as she was concerned. But it was a walled off space she supposed she could call a room. Ron and Harry had insisted she take it as it was the only place in the tent that could be considered private and a room. They seemed to think as the only girl she'd need it. She would have been offended but she didn't want to sleep in the bunk beds. The small full bed in the room that wasn't really a room wasn't comfortable but it was the softest of palace beds compared to the bunk beds. Plus, it'd be easier to cast a silencing charm in a room. Ron snored badly. Didn't much matter now, she guessed.

Shuffling inside her room, she sat and then stood up again, at odds with what she ought to do with herself. She thought about reading more 'Tales of Beedle the Bard' or maybe more of their research material, but then decided against it. Her eyes couldn't take any more of either of those things. It was all tied up in Horcruxes and she just didn't want to think about it anymore.

She didn't know why she did it, but she dug into her beaded bag, throwing out book after book until she found it: a thick book with a lime green cover and no title. There was no logical reason for her to pack this book and the four other books associated with it. It had no useful purpose on this quest but when she'd been organizing things before they'd left she'd put them in without even questioning the decision. She still couldn't really justify her thinking process, other than the thought that she couldn't bear to leave them behind.

Running her fingers over the cover, she inhaled deeply and opened the book, flipping forward to what would have been the title page had the book been given a proper name. Instead there was a strange green symbol shaped like a house made of blocks. 'Earth's Sessions: Volume I' had been overlaid on top of the house logo and just underneath in smaller script was 'Universe A & B: The Full Account As Dictated By Rose Lalonde Et Al.'. There was a blank page and then a forward that was no doubt unique to this copy and this copy alone.

_What you hold in your hands is a labor of love. Each page was carefully transcribed from my handwritten notes. It encompasses hours of research and interviews. Nearly five years of work stretched over two universes, and I confess my work isn't done. This is only the very first printing of this history and I've given it to you. It is the most complete and accurate telling of our tale, told to you by those who lived it._

_I apologize that this tome has yet to be given a name. I made the classic mistake in thinking that everyone had a say in this book's title. John has been insisting we ought to call it Homestuck, because we spent so much time screwing around in our homes. Everyone else hates it and has argued with him ad nauseam, to no avail. Fact is, none of us have come up with anything better. Of course, this means that John has already gotten his way and inevitably that will be the title of the book. After all, he is and has always been our friend-leader. I'm sure you can sympathize._

_Enjoy the book, for what it's worth._

_R. Lalonde_

Hermione made a sound that was laugh adjacent thinking about her friends, secretly wondering what those arguments might have sounded like. Her fingers traced the words as she gazed at it thoughtfully. This book took her back to a simpler time. Sure, back then there were still scary, terrible things that happened. But it all seemed so remote... so disconnected from them in a larger sense because there was always an adult there at some point. Just as Harry had once said, they'd nearly always had help. And now here they were, fighting for their lives and there was no one to help them. No adult to cushion their fall.

_He is and has always been our friend-leader. I'm sure you can sympathize._

Those words in particular lifted themselves off the page. Yes, yes, she could sympathize. She'd follow Harry into Hell if he asked, even now. It didn't make the journey any easier though. She skipped forward a bit, occasionally stopping to read a favorite passage at whim until a photograph fell out. Picking it up delicately, she gazed at it, smiling down at her fourteen year old self. She was squeezed in the middle with Roxy on her left and Jane on her right. Dave was behind Roxy, blank-faced and giving her bunny ears while John was behind Jane making a very silly face.

She looked down at that photo, at her happy face with her cheeks pink from the cold, and she didn't recognize that girl anymore. Her face crumpled in anguish, curling in on herself as she pressed the photo to her heart. She wept silently for god knows how long; letting out keening, gasping breaths as she sobbed for everything they'd lost. Getting control of herself marginally, she put the picture and the book away. Absently she remembered that it was four years in September. Four years and they weren't here.

She wasn't all that surprised that once again things hadn't worked out as she'd hoped. Forgetting then that she had more  _believed_ something would happen at a certain time rather than simply trusting in hope that it would when it was meant to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone!! Just a quick update for Mother's Day!! The next full update is 6/12!!

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so the idea for this story popped in my head and wouldn't leave me alone. It was one singular image. Dave waltzing down a hallway in Hogwarts as if he belonged there. And so I wrote this, may god have mercy on my soul. It's a fic about friendship, time travel, and how shitty growing up can be. I'm sorry. (except I'm not.)


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